Blueadder
by Chris the Metis
Summary: Outlook of Sodor in the Middle Ages with Gordon as king, Edward the prince and of course hapless prince Thomas and his cronies
1. The Foretelling

Parody of Thomas the tank engine & Friends season 1

I don't own either Blackdder and Thomas the Tank Engine

**Main starring**

Thomas the Tank Engine as Prince Thomas, the Blue Adder of Ufstead, Ffarquhar, and Rock  
Oliver the Great Western Engine as Sir Oliver the Knight of Great Western Order  
Percy the Small Engine as Lord Percy, Duke of Dryaw  
Gordon the Big Engine as King Gordon IV of Knapford  
Edward the Blue Engine as Prince Edward of Brendam  
Molly the Yellow Engine as The Queen

* * *

**Episode One**  
**The Foretelling**

**Guess Starring**  
Duck the Great Western Engine as Montague I  
The Flying Scotsman as Gordon III  
Sir Charles Topham Hatt as Painter  
Mavis the Diesel as Mavis the Witch  
Daisy the Diesel Railcar as Daisy the Witch  
Emily the Single Sterling Engine as Emily the Witch

"From out of the swirling mists of the Dark Ages comes a lone horseman with a most ridiculous haircut. It's the ghost of Gordon III, back to haunt the hapless Prince Blue Adder!"

Painter: History has known many great liars. Professor Zelda the Psychopathic Heretic, Nero the Mentally Insane Nut, Ontario Premier Dalton McGinty, St Robert the Liar [he is shown holding a sign which reads 'St Squaddie the Liar'] - but there have been none quite so vile as the Swindon king Montague I. It was he who rewrote history to portray his processor Gordon III as a deformed maniac who killed his nephews in the Tower. But the real truth is that Gordon was a kind and thoughtful man who cherished his young wards. In particular: Gordon, Duke of Knapford, who grew into a big, strong boy.  
Montague also claimed he won the Battle of Peel Godred and killed Gordon III. Again, the truth is very different; for it was Gordon, Duke of Knapford, who became king after Peel Godred, and reigned for thirteen glorious years.  
As for who really killed Gordon and how the defeated Montague Swindon escaped with his life, all is revealed in this, the first chapter of a history never before told: the history of The Blue Adder!

[The Eve of The Battle of Peel Godred; 21st August, 1485]

[Scene is a feast]

Gordon (Duke of Knapford): [bangs his goblet thrice on the table] Silence! Silence! For the king!

King (Gordon III): [stands, hunched, speaks awkwardly] Now is the summer of our sweet content, Made in cast winter by these Haultaugh clouds. And I that am not shaped for black-faced war, [the people gathered appropriately make noises to the contrary] I that am rudely cast and want true majesty,

[more noises from the people; then he fixes his hunched standing position by yanking on his cloak, which had been stuck]

Am forced to fight,  
To set sweet Sodor free.  
I pray to Series we fare well,  
And all who fight us go to Hit.

[cheers from everyone. Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar, sitting at the very end of the table, stands up, raising his goblet]  
Thomas: Hurray, hurray, absolutely! Hurray! [notices that he's the only one speaking and standing; sits back down, embarrassed]

King: [to Gordon] Who is that?

Gordon: I know not, My Lord. I'll ask my son.

[he calls to Edward, Prince of Brendam, who sits on the other side of the king from Gordon]

Edward, who is that?

Edward: It is your other son, My Lord.

Gordon: [to King] It is my other son, My Lord.

King: Fights he with us on the morrow?

Gordon: [pauses, then to Edward again] What's his name?

Edward: [with mouth full] Thomas.

Gordon: [turns and yells across the room to Thomas] Timon, fight you with us on the morrow?

Thomas: Er, [stands again] oh goodness, no! No, I thought I'd fight with the enemy! [no one laughs; he sits down embarrassed]

King: [to Gordon] You're, er, not putting him anywhere near me, are you?

Gordon: No, no. He'll be somewhere amongst the rabble.

King: Oh! Cannon fodder!

Gordon: Precisely.

King: Yes... [chuckles, waves to Thomas, grinning; mutters between his teeth] What a little turd.

[cut to Thomas's end of the table]

Thomas: [to Percy, Duke of Dryaw, after giving a little wave back to King] Ah, Percy, you see how the King picks me out for special greeting?

Percy: No, My Lord...

[a knight pokes his head in, refilling their goblets, and speaks]

Oliver: I saw it, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah, and what is your name, little fellow?

Oliver: My name is Sir Oliver of Great Western, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah. Then I shall call you...'Sir Oliver of Great Western'!

Oliver: ...and I shall call you 'My Lord', My Lord.

Thomas: Mmm. I like the cut of your jib, young fellow m'lad! How would you like to be my squire in the battle to-morrow?

[Oliver kneels instantly]

Percy: [trying to show off in front of Oliver, speaks to Thomas] It will be a great day tomorrow for we nobles.  
Thomas: Well, not if we lose, Percy. If we lose, I'll be chopped to pieces. My arms will end up at Haultraugh, my torso in Cronk, and my genitalia stuck up a tree somewhere in Arlesdales.

Oliver: With you at the helm, My Lord, we cannot lose.

Percy: [still trying to show off] Well, we could if we wanted to!

Thomas: Ah, but we won't, Percy, and I shall prove to all that I am a man!

Percy: But you are a man, My Lord.

Thomas: But how shall it be proved, Percy...?

Percy: Well, they could look up that tree in Arlesdale. [Thomas baps him on the forehead] Yes, My Lord.

Thomas: It shall be proved by mine enemies rushing to the water closet in terror!

Oliver: [restrained, of course - they're in a crowded room] Hurray!

Percy: Hurray!

Thomas: Come: a toast. Let all those who go to don armour to-morrow remember to 'go' before they don armour to-morrow! Hurray! [they clink goblets] Already I can hear the sound of battle ringing in my ears...

[Cut to just before the battle, outside. The following lines are spoken to the army]

King: Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more! Consign their parts most private to a Arlesdale tree!  
Gordon: Let blood - Blood - BLOOD! - be your motto! Slit their gizzards!

Edward: Now, I'm afraid there's going to have to be a certain amount of, well, violence. But at least we know it's all in a good cause, don't we?

King: And gentlemen in Ulfstead still in bed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhood cheap while others speak of those who fought with us on James the Overrated Self Righteous Arrogant Pompous Buffoon's Day!

[he raises his sword high in the air. Our view follows it into the sky.]

[Our view comes down from the sky, to see the castle. Inside Thomas's room, he sleeps in his bed, snoring, while Oliver sleeps on the floor, using straw as a pillow. There is a knock on the door.]

Mother: Thomas? [opening the door] Thomas...

Thomas: Hmm? Oh, Mother, what do you want?

Mother: Did you want to go to the battle this morning?

Thomas: [sits up with a start; removes a cover from a sundial, and looks at it] Oh my god, it's eleven o'clock!

Mother: [smiling unconcernedly, amusing shakes her head, closes the door

[cut to long shot of a rise. On it we see a silhouette of Thomas on horseback. Following him at a distance is Oliver on a bull back.]

Oliver: My Lord...

Thomas: What is it?

Oliver: Where is this battle, then?

Thomas: Oh, somewhere called Peel Godred...

[they have ridden off to the right of the shot. Suddenly, we see Oliver going the other way, followed by Thomas.]

Thomas: Damn, damn, damn! The first decent battle since I reached puberty...

[Now we see them close up, riding together, up a rise leading to a valley.]

Oliver: Here we are, My Lord...

Thomas: Onward, Oliver! To glory!

[Over the top of the rise we now can see banners clashing together. Thomas stops his horse at the top.]

Thomas: Yes, erm, I'm not so sure we're needed, you know, Oliver... I mean, everything seems to be going very well, doesn't it? Everyone's fighting - clearly having the time of their lives. Wait a moment; some of them over there aren't fighting! They're... they're just lying down!

Oliver: They're dead, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah. [he wriggles in his seat] Damn, I knew I'd forgotten something. Would you excuse me a moment, Oliver? [he turns his horse away]

[Just away from the battle, King on foot meets Gordon on horseback]

Gordon: Your Majesty, you've lost your steed! Take mine!

King: No, no, no. I've won the battle; I've saved the kingdom; I think I can find myself a horse!

Gordon: How true, My Noble Lord. I'll see you back at the castle!

King: So be it!

[Gordon rides off. King walks along, calling...]

King: A horse! [whistles a call] A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

[He stops as he sees a horse - Thomas's - tied to a tree.]

Ah, Horsie! [He approaches the horse. Thomas, doing business behind a nearby bush, sees.]

Thomas: [mumbling to himself] Who is this?

[as King bends over to untie the horse from the tree, Thomas walks up behind...]

Thomas: [drawing his sword] Wait! That's my horse!

[swings his sword; lops King's head clean off. He's rather surprised at his strength but quickly gets a cocky feeling, and laughs a bit.]

There, that'll teach you!

[He picks up the helmeted head]  
You won't be doing that again, now will you?  
[He lifts the helmet's face shield, then lowers the shield]  
Oh my god. It's Uncle Gordon.

[Thomas screams. Oliver runs up, having just parked his mule by the tree.]

Oliver: What's that, My Lord?

Thomas: Hmm? [Frighteningly tosses the head to Oliver.]

Oliver: [catches the head with a chuckle, then lifts the face shield]

Oh dear - Gordon III. [half shouts] What are you going to do?

Thomas: Well, quick, quick... [he turns the body over, takes the head back and tries to replace it, asking Oliver to hold it in steady. He moves the corpse's arms about, and beats on its chest. Oliver for a moment puts his face down, trying to resuscitate the body through the face shield.]

Oliver: [points to something off-shot] My Lord! That hut there!

[They each grab a leg and drag the body away. The head stays behind.]

[They enter a small cottage. Oliver is solely dragging the body now. Thomas enters afterward, carrying a gauntlet.]

Thomas: [still entering] Come on! Come on! Will you wait! Will you wait!  
[Oliver collapses exhausted on the corpse.]

Thomas: [closing the door] Ah, well done... [He sits on a barrel, then notices that something's missing.] Where's the head?

Oliver: I thought you had it.

Thomas: Oliver, I can't be expected to carry everything!

[They hear someone approaching. Thomas cowers; Oliver prepares to strike down the intruder with some sort of blunt object. The door opens, and Percy enters.]

Thomas: Percy, you brainless son of a overgrown warthog! Where have you been?

Percy: I've just proved that I'm a man! Look what I've found! [He proffers the head.]

Thomas: Oh, thank God. Quick, Percy, quick - put it down and let's get out of here!

Percy: No no no no! I found it. It's mine!

Thomas: What do you mean it's yours? [He tries to take it from Percy.]

Percy: [defensively] I'm going to use it to prove that I killed a nobleman!

Thomas: [stops trying to take the head] And which nobleman, pray...?

Percy: Er... [he looks under the face shield, laughs, then holds the head proudly] Well, it's the King, actually!

Thomas: [stares at Percy quite intently]

Percy: [Frighteningly tosses the head to Thomas]

Thomas: [Frighteningly tosses the head to Oliver]

Oliver: [Frighteningly tosses the head in the barrel]

[a bloodied, armoured man approaches the cottage and staggers in just as our three were about to leave]

Man: Lost! Lost! All is lost! [he collapses to the floor]

Thomas: What?

Man: Flee! Flee!

Thomas: Oh my god! Quick - let's get out of here!

Man: Take me with you! [he grabs one of Thomas legs]

Thomas: Get your hands off! [Percy feebly helps in this process]

Man: If you leave me alone here, I'll die.

Thomas: If you don't leave me alone, I'll kill you myself! [Oliver bops the man on the head with his blunt object. The man falls to one side.] Now; leave him here, come on! [Thomas, Oliver, and Percy make their way out.]

Man: I'll give you money! Ten thousand sovereigns!

[After a moment, the man collapses to the floor. The door opens, and Percy's head pokes in...]

[cut to Thomas and Oliver entering the great hall in the castle. Oliver keeps running, but Thomas stops as he meets his mother.]

Thomas: [frantic] Mother!

Mother: Thomas, dear. How did it go?

Thomas: Within seconds, Montague Swindon will be here at our gates!

Mother: Oh, but, Thomas, I'm not ready - I haven't had a bath or anything.

Thomas: Mother, Montague is our enemy. When his men get here, they'll brutally ravish you and every woman in the castle!

Mother: Ah, well, I shan't bother to change, then.

[Oliver runs into the doorway across the hall.]

Oliver: My Lord!

Thomas: What do you want?

Oliver: Listen!

[An army's drums can be heard faintly in the distance.]

Thomas: Oh my god! They're here already! [He begins to run down the hall, shouting.] Run for your lives! Run for the hills!

Oliver: Er, My Lord, they're coming from the hills.

Thomas: [still shouting] Oh, sorry. Run away from the hills! Run away from the hills! If you see the hills, run the other way!

[Percy arrives.]

Percy: No, My Lord, it's all right - they're flying the banners of our King Gordon.

Thomas: Well, that's impossible - he's dead, isn't he!

Mother: [shocked] King Gordon, dead?

Thomas: [suddenly not so frantic] Yes... Errr, God knows how...

Mother: Oh, dear. That's really upset the tulip cart.

Thomas: [frantic again] Those flags, Percy, are obviously just a cunning trick to deceive us into staying!

Oliver: No, My Lord, I don't think it is a cunning trick.

Thomas: Well, no, it's not a particularly cunning trick, because we've seen through it!  
[He locks the main entrance to the great hall.]  
But obviously they thought it was cunning when they thought it out.

Oliver: What I mean, My Lord, is that I don't think they did think it out.

Thomas: What, you think someone else thought it up, and they've borrowed it for the occasion?

Oliver: No, My Lord. I don't think it's a trick at all.

Thomas: You don't think that riding up to a castle under someone else's banner is a trick? [sarcastically] Well, no, I suppose it isn't!

[There's a banging on the main door. Thomas screams and goes through the inner door. The main door has been broken down.]

Percy: [He and Oliver remain in the great hall.] It's only your father.

Gordon: [entering with his entourage] Who locked that bloody door?

Mother: Gordon, it's you!

Gordon: Well, who did you expect it to be, woman?

Mother: Why, I thought it would be Montague Tunip.

Gordon: Montague Tunip? Have you lost your conkers?

Mother: So you won?

Gordon: Yes, of course! We won! We won! Victory!

[General cheers from his entourage.]

Mother: So, I suppose now you want to ravish me...

Gordon: [shocked] Yes, yes, in a moment... [He turns to Lord Bertie, one of his entourage.] The woman's insatiable! [He shouts.] Three cheers for good King Gordon! Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"] Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"] Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"]  
[Thomas appears from the opposite end he left, behind the group.]

Thomas: [weakly] Huzzah...

Gordon: All we need now is for King Gordon to be here, and the day shall complete!

Mother: Yes, what a pity he's dead.

Gordon: [shocked whisper] What? Who told you that?

Mother: Well, Thomas. [nods to his direction]

Gordon: [he and the group turn to face Thomas.] Is this true?

Thomas: [quite intimidated, as well as fearing for his life] Errr, well, I wouldn't know, really. I was...nowhere near him at the time. I... I just...heard from someone that he'd, er... er... I mean, I don't even know where he was killed. I was completely on the opposite side of the field. I was nowhere near the cottage.

[Everyone questions that last statement, with stares.]

Thomas: ...not that it was a cottage - it was a river. But, then, wouldn't know, of course, because I wasn't there. But, apparently, some fool cut his head off...or at least killed him in some way...perhaps...took an ear off or something. Yes, yes, in fact, I think he was only wounded! er, or was that somebody else? Yes, I think it was. Why, he wasn't even wounded!

[Edward is staggering in behind Thomas, carrying the headless corpse, and the crown.]

Thomas: [not noticing Edward] Why, did someone say he was dead?

Edward: Yes!

Gordon: What!

Edward: It's true, My Lord! I stumbled on his body myself! O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth! [He places the body on the floor, and lies on top of it.]

Gordon: Er, yes...

Edward: Good night, sweet king... \

Gordon: Yes, yes, that's enough of that, thank you, Edward... /  
Edward: ...and flights of angels sing thee to thy! \

Gordon: Thank you, Edward... [shouts, annoyed] Thank you, Edward! /  
[angered whisper] Yes! ...and we all know who did this dreadful deed - [he looks at Thomas] don't we?

[Thomas slowly nods, as a sort of confession, and closes his eyes, preparing to have his head cut off.]

Gordon: Montague Swindon!

[Thomas's nod increases in speed, he opens his eyes and grins.]

Gordon: Yes! and he still roams free! [He shouts quite loudly.] Edward, call for silence!  
[Everyone is silent.]

Edward: [shouts] Silence! [He slowly lowers the crown onto his father's head.] ...for the King! [Everyone, including Edward, kneels or bows before Gordon.]

Everyone but Gordon: Long live King Gordon IV!

King (previously 'Gordon'): This day has been as 'twere  
A mighty stew  
In which the beef of victory  
Was mix'd  
With the vile turnip  
Of sweet Gordon slain  
And the grisly dumpling  
Of his killer fled.  
But we must eat  
The yellow wobbly parts  
two serves.  
In life, each man gets  
What he deserves!

[His speech over, King looks around at the kneeled assembly.]

King: [nonchalant] Well, come on - let's go and kill some more prisoners.

[His original entourage stands up excitedly.]

King: Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"] Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"] Hap hap! ["Huzzah!"]

[Cut to Thomas's room. He, Percy and Oliver enter, dejectedly. Once they're in and the door closes, Thomas slowly turns and begins to grin.]

Thomas: Hurray! [The others are excited now too.] We're safe! and I am a prince of the realm! Hap hap! [Oliver says "Huzzah!" first, Percy forgets the word.] Can you imagine the power...

Percy: ...and it's ours! all ours!

Thomas: What?

Oliver: Yours! all yours!

Percy: Er, yours.

[Edward opens the door and enters.]

Edward: Ah, Thomas, there you are. Now, I know it's a little early, but I'd just like to get these battle averages sorted out. Now then, who did you kill to-day?

Thomas: [frightened] Erm... no-one.

Edward: No-one? Oh, dear. Right, er, I'll put you down for a duck, then, which, I'm afraid, takes you out of the running for the Legion of Honour.

Thomas: Oh, I see, sorry! Sorry, I thought you meant had I killed King Gordon!

Edward: What?

Thomas: What...was the question?

Edward: [enunciated] Who did you kill to-day?

Thomas: Oh, I see. Er, right, er, let's see here... Erm...

[Oliver, opposite of Edward from Thomas, mouths 'Peasants!']

Thomas: Pedant.

Edward: [insulted] What!

Thomas: Pleasant... Pdnt... P... Pzz...

[Oliver continues to mouth 'Peasants!']

Thomas: Peasants! Peasants! There were a lot of peasants! Er, but they don't really count, do they?

Edward: Only in the event of a tie. Nevertheless, how many did you kill?

Thomas: Oh, errr...

[Oliver puts four fingers across his face, while Percy holds up his palm.]

Thomas: Four...hand...handred...

[Percy continues to display his open palm.]

Thomas: Four handred... hand... Four hundred hand...fifty!

Edward: Four hundred and fifty? Good lord! That's three times more than myself!

Thomas: Yes, well, I had a couple of lucky breaks.

Edward: Any nobles?

Thomas: Ah, let me see...nobles...erm...I think...

[Percy mouths 'Seven!' (I suppose it could be 'Toby')]

Thomas: Lord Toby...

Edward: ...who fought on our side, I believe.

Thomas: Er, yes... I think Lord Toby saw me slaying, erm...

[Oliver turns 90 degrees, turns his head and looks out the corner of his eye, then tilts his helmet over his eyes in an fearless pose.]

Thomas: ...Freddy.

Edward: Freddy the Fearless of Arlesburgh West?

Thomas: Yes, that's him - and pretty fearless he was, too! He took some finishing off, I can tell you!

Edward: Yes, indeed - I killed him myself at one point. Anyone else?

Thomas: Erm...erm...let me see... Just trying to put names to faces...

Edward: Yes, well, this is the list of the lords as yet unaccounted for: Bill and Ben...

Thomas: Oh, Bill and Ben, yes, they were mine.

Edward: Lord Bertram of Skarloey...

Thomas: Ah, yes, backslash...

Edward: Lord Billy...

Thomas: Ah, yes, groin job...

Edward: Good lord! This is remarkable, Thomas! Remarkable! Oh, and the Bishop of Machan and Norramby-

Thomas: Ah, yes, will never walk again!

Edward: ...will conduct the thanksgiving service.

Thomas: Oh, Machan and Norramby...

Edward: [Turns to Percy.] Ah, Lord Percy! Thomas tells me that you managed to turn up late for the battle, [he begins walking out] so there's not much point in asking you your score, is there? [Leaves]

[Percy tries to speak, but can't think of anything. He's upset. He turns to face Thomas.]

Thomas: Ha hah!

Oliver: Ha hah!

Percy: [bitterly sarcastic] Ha hah...

Thomas: At last I can relax! [He opens the curtain to his bed, to find the dying man lying in it. He turns back to Percy and Oliver, and speaks quietly.] Who the Hit is this?

Percy: Ah, well, you remember that dying man we saw in the cottage?

Thomas: The one I specifically told you not to bring back to the castle under any circumstances?

Percy: Mm hmm, yes, that's the one, yes.

Thomas: So what is he doing in my bed?

Percy: Well, he claims to be a wealthy man. I thought, if we nurse him back to health, he may reward us.

Thomas: No, wait - I think I have an idea... If he is a wealthy man, and we nurse him back to health, he may reward us!

Oliver: Oh, brilliant, My Lord - very quick thinking.

Thomas and Percy: Thank you, Oliver. [Thomas eyes Percy angrily.]

Thomas: Well, what would you expect? After all, who has the fastest brain in the land?

Oliver: Prince Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar!

Thomas: Who is the boldest horseman in the land? [Looking at Percy.]

Oliver: Prince Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar! \

Percy: [catching on] ...Duke of Ffarquhar! /

Thomas: Who is the bravest swordsman in the land?

Percy: Oh, don't tell me! It's that Mike from Alesburgh West...

Thomas: PRINCE...

Oliver and Percy: Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar!

Thomas: Precisely. [dramatically] Or, as I shall be known from now on:  
The Blue...  
Balls!

Oliver: My Lord, wouldn't something like 'The Blue Adder' sound better?

Thomas: No, wait - I think I have a better idea... What about:

The Blue...  
Adder!

[Cut to scene of him choosing a new outfit. He points to a blue suit with a coiled snake on it and a blue cape; a pair of blue shoes, more suited to a jester; a blue bowl for haircut style. Cut to finishing of his haircut - very short hair. He looks in a mirror, and stands up. Camera pans down to look at his entire outfit... large blue rings, blue tights and all.]

[Cut to an inner hallway. Thomas, Oliver and Percy enter, laughing.]

Oliver: Very witty, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah, thank you, Oliver.

Percy: Very very very witty, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah, thank you, Percy.

Oliver: You're certainly wittier than your father, My Lord.

Percy: ...and head and shoulders over Gordon III!

Thomas: [Turns on Percy.] IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE WITTY?

Percy: Er, no, My Lord... No, no...that...that was...an example of the sort of thing that you yourself would not stoop to...

Thomas: GO AWAY!

Oliver and Percy: Yes, My Lord.

[Thomas enters his room, closing the door. He hangs up his blue hat, then goes to his bed, with the man in it. The man is awake, having soup.]

Thomas: Ah, you're still here, are you?

Man: Er, yes.

[Thomas looks closely at the man. The man is Montague Haultaugh.]

Thomas: Wait a moment - haven't I seen you somewhere before?

Montague (previously 'Man'): I don't know. I feel I've seen you before, also.

Thomas: Well, I am Prince Thomas, son of Gordon IV! Why? Who are you?

Montague: [shocked to discover where he is] Well, erm, I'm, er, not important.

Thomas: Not important? You mean you're not rich?

Montague: No. [Knows that would mean death.] Yes! Yes, I'm incredibly rich! I'm...I'm a very wealthy, errm, modest person, who wishes to remain nameless.

Thomas: Well, you'd better be rich. Get your money together, get better, and get out of my bed, is that clear? [He shuts the curtain.]

[Thomas looks around, uncovers a home-made crown, puts it on and looks at himself in the mirror.]

Ghost (of Gordon III): Oh yes, very fetching.

[Thomas turns, and screams for about six seconds.]

Ghost: ...and hello to you.

Thomas: Uh, uh, er, hello...hello...er...goodness me...I hadn't...expected...to see you...like this.

Ghost: Sitting down, you mean?

Thomas: Er, yes, yes, that's right: sitting down. Goodness, look! Look! You're sitting down.  
Ghost: Yes.

Thomas: Why, I haven't seen you sitting down since, er...hoo...

Ghost: Yesterday?

Thomas: Was it only yesterday? Good lord! Erm, errr...well...How was your battle?

Ghost: Fine. Somebody cut my head off at one point, but otherwise everything went swimmingly. ...and how are you, Timon?

Thomas: Er, Thomas.

Ghost: Your father told me 'Timon'.

Thomas: No...

Ghost: So, Timon, you loathsome little fairy maggot, how are you?

Thomas: Er, how...how very very kind of you to ask, erm, Your Majesty... I'm very well, and, er, and it's very good to

see you, because, frankly...

Ghost: Yes?

Thomas: Well, well, well, frankly...er... Gosh, you look well.

Ghost: Frankly what? Spit it out, you horrid little scabby reptile!

Thomas: Er, well, frankly, everyone thought you were dead.

Ghost: Well, frankly, [his head rises from his body to be level with Thomas] I am.

Thomas: Eugh!

[There's a knock at the door.]

Ghost: [to the door] Do come in.

Thomas: [rushing to the door] No! Don't come in!

Queen (previously 'Mother'): [From outside the door] Why not? Have you got someone in there with you?

Thomas: Erm, not as such...

Queen: Is it a woman?

Thomas: No!

Queen: Is it a man?

Thomas: Err, [he watches the Ghost's head fly about the room] err, yes, yes it is.

Queen: You hesitated, Thomas - it's not a sheep, is it?

Thomas: No, of course it isn't a sheep!

Queen: Well then, let me in!

Ghost: [body together, standing] So, farewell, Timon! You'll be seeing me later. [The body walks off; the head remains.]

Thomas: Erm, have, er, have you got...transport? Erm, perhaps you'd like to borrow my horse again... [considers the possibility that the ghost doesn't know its slayer] or at all! I mean, not that you've borrowed it before...

Ghost: [The body returns, gesturing for the head to follow.] Coming! [Leaves]

[Thomas opens the door. Queen enters.]

Queen: Are you all right, Thomas? [Thomas quickly removes - and hides – his crown.] Why, you look as though you've just seen a ghost!

Thomas: Er, yes?

Queen: Hurry up, anyway - you're expected at the banquet!

[Montague is listening from the bed.]

Thomas: Erm, look, er, Mother, er... You won't tell anyone about my oversleeping, er, this morning and... and what have you, now will you?

Queen: Now, would I, Thomas... Do I tell people that your brother Edward is scared of spoons? or that your father has very small private parts? [She moves from the closet to the bed.]

Thomas: [trying to stop her] Oh! Mother!

Montague: [like a sheep] Baaaa! Baaaa!

Queen: Oh, Thomas! It's the lying I find so hurtful...

Thomas: [with uneasy grin] Baaaa...

[Cut to banquet. Thomas enters, and prepares to sit between his father and his brother - in Gordon III's seat.]

Thomas: So sorry I'm late...

King: HOLD! YOU DARE SIT THERE, BOY? That was King Gordon's seat! Would you insult his ghost?

Thomas: Eugh, erm, no, no - sorry.

[Ghost appears in the chair, but only Thomas can see or hear it.]

Ghost: Yes, find your own chair, you smelly little dog's pizzle!

Thomas: Eugh! [he goes back to the his normal spot and the end of table]

King: [speaking across where Ghost is, to Edward] How many prisoners have you got, Edward?

Ghost: I'm not Edward - I'm... I'm Gordon. He's Edward. \

Edward: I've still got the Scottish Mercenaries of Callan down in the dungeons, Father. /

King: Send the Scottish to my room, will you?

Edward: Very well. Do you want them hung? \

Ghost: [waving] Hello? /

King: No - fresh ones; I want to practice my backhand. \

Ghost: Hello? Is anybody there? /

Edward: Oh, I don't think you need to, the way you slaughtered Lord Dodge!

Ghost: Hello?

King: Oh, I wish Uncle Sticky was here.

Ghost: Don't 'Sticky' me, Fatty...

King: [stands, bangs gold wine pitcher on table thrice, then holds up his goblet and speaks] Tonight, honoured friends, we are gathered to celebrate a great victory, and to mourn a great loss. [Raises his goblet] A toast: to our triumph! ["Our triumph!"] [Ghost looks quite bored.] ...and I raise a royal curse upon the man who slew Gordon, our noble king!

Ghost: [stands, points to Thomas] It was him!

Thomas: Oh my god!

King: Quiet at the end there! [shouts again] Whoever it was...

Ghost: [seated again] It was him - Timon!

King: Wherever he be...

Ghost: He's down there at the end!

King: He shall be struck down!

Ghost: Well then get on with it, you stupid oaf - he's there!

Thomas: It wasn't me!

King: Who said that?

Ghost: The idiot who killed me this afternoon!

Thomas: I didn't!

King: Well then, who did?

Edward: It was actually Thomas who interrupted, Sire.

Ghost: Hang the little slug!

[Thomas screams and crawls under the table.]

King: I WILL HAVE SILENCE! [bangs pitcher on table once more. Raises goblet again] Another toast: to dead King Gordon.

Ghost: [disgustedly] Oh my god...

King: Gentlemen... ["King Gordon."]

Ghost: [still disgusted] Well, thank you, you all ungrateful bunch. Thank you. Thank you very much for nothing. Thank you so much. That's the last you'll be seeing of me...not that you've seen much of me, in any case.

[he has faded away]

[Thomas, still on his knees on the floor, but now out from under the table, wipes his brow and sighs.]

King: Now that we have silence, we shall continue with the ceremony of desecration. Produce the portrait of the pretender, Montague Swindon!

[A man carries the portrait down the room. People hiss and make general noises of unpleasantness.]

Thomas: [recognising the face as the man in his bed] Oh my god!

[he crawls out of the room on his hands and knees]

[Thomas down inner hallway. From inside his room, Ghost opens the door.]

Ghost: Good evening.

Thomas: Where's Montague Harwick! [he rushes to the bed]

Ghost: [suddenly in the bed] Baaaa!

Thomas: Oh no! Where is he? Where is he? [he checks the closet]

Ghost: [suddenly inside the closet, wiggles his fingers, making spooky 'woo!' noise]

Thomas: [He looks out the window to see a horseman riding out of the castle. He runs to the door, and it is opened by Ghost. He bows to Ghost as he exits, and speaks sacredly respectively.]  
Thank you...thank you so much.

[Thomas chases Montague on horseback out of the castle and into a meadow outside. We see Ghost snap his fingers, and the meadow suddenly is foggy. Thomas rides out of the fog, at a clearing in the woods, to find three old witches bent over a cauldron.]

Witches tutti: Oooh... Oooh... Oooh... Oooh...

Thomas: [Having dismounted, he stands next to them, and clears his throat.]

Witches tutti: [startled] Oooh!

Mavis: Hail!

Daisy: Hail!

Emily: Hail!

Mavis: Ruler of men...

Daisy: Ravisher of women...

Emily: Slayer of kings!

Thomas: Be gone, hideous crones!

Mavis: Be not afraid...

Daisy: Be not overcome with fear...

Emily: Be not paralysed with terror...

Thomas: [bored] Why have you lured me here, you loathsome drabs?

Emily: We bear good news.

Thomas: What news could such repulsive harbingers convey?

Mavis: To-day has brought misfortune...

Emily: But one day...

Witches tutti: O, glorious day!

Daisy: One day...

Witches tutti: O, happy day!

[pause]

Thomas: Yes?

Witches tutti: You shall be king!

Thomas: [excited] Really?

Witches tutti: Yes! Your Majesty! [they bow]

Thomas: Well, that is good news, isn't it? [mounting his horse] God be with you, you snaggle toothed vultures! Look out history, here I come!

[Begin theme music]

The sound of hoofbeats cross the glade  
Good folk, lock up your son and daughter  
Beware the deadly flashing blade  
Unless you want to end up shorter

Blue Adder! Blue Adder!  
He rides a pitch-blue steed  
Blue Adder! Blue Adder!  
He's very bad indeed

Blue: His gloves of finest mole  
Blue: His codpiece made of metal  
His horse is bluer than a vole  
His pot is bluer than his kettle

Blue Adder! Blue Adder!  
With many cunning plan  
Blue Adder! Blue Adder!

You horrid little man

Mavis: He wasn't as I expected him.

Daisy: I thought he was very rude.

Mavis: I thought Montague Harwick would be better looking.

Emily: Yes - not so Turkish.

Daisy: ...more like that man who rode by just before.

Emily: Oops.

Daisy: Oops.

Mavis: Oops.

Daisy: We've done it again...

Emily: Silly witching...

Mavis: Back to work


	2. Born to be King

**I don't own both**

**those wonder about Squaddie and those never heard, they're part of Extended Railway Series**

**Episode Two**  
**Born to be King**

An green-faced, kilt-clad Scotsman sends waves of shock through the court of Sodor with his treachery, murder and Scottish dancing.

**Guest Starring**  
Niel the Box Tank Engine as Lord Neil the Duke of Ballaswein  
Cranky the Crane as Jumping Jew of Jerusalem  
Fergus Duncan the Small Controller as Sir Fergus Duncan of Arlesdale  
Bill the Tank Engine Twin as 2nd Wooferoonie  
Ben the Tank Engine Twin as 3rd Wooferoonie  
Harold the Helicopter as Messenger

Caption: In 1486, the second year of Gordon IV's historic reign and also the year in which the egg replaced the worm as the lowest form of currency, King Gordon departed Sodor on a Crusade against the Germans.

King: As the good Lord said: "Love thy neighbour as thyself, unless he's German, in which case, kill the bastard!"

Caption: He left behind him his beloved son Prince Edward to rule as Regent in his stead. (Edward looks as though he doesn't quite remember the line about thy neighbour in those words.)

King: Farewell, dear Edward.

Edward: Farewell, Father.

Caption: ...and his slimy son Thomas to do the tasks most befitting him.

King: Edward... (rides off)

Oliver: My Lord, with the King gone...

Thomas: Hmmm? Of course! At last, a chance for some real power! (laughs in his ridiculous-sounding evil way)

**Caption: Twelve months later**

(Thomas is on horseback, with his sword raised in the air. He shouts.)

Thomas: On! Onward! I want you scum back to the castle by sundown, or you'll all be slaughtered! Onward!

(sounds of 'Baaa' are heard as Thomas speaks to his flock of sheep, in heavy snowfall)

Thomas: Come on! Come on! Keep going! I've just about had enough of you!

Sheep: Bbbbaaaaa!

Thomas: Shut up!

Sheep: Bbaaaa! (They begin to run.)

Thomas: Come on! No, that's not the way you're going. Stop! Where are you going? No, not away from the castle!

Sheep: Bbbaaa!

Thomas: Shut up!

(cut to room in the castle)

Edward: (standing by the fire, reading a note) Splendid! Splendid!

(Thomas enters the adjacent hallway)

Thomas: (to sheep) Now look, you're not supposed to be here. That's far enough, now get out! (shuts door, begins to walk down the hallway) If I could get my hands on that bastard brother, Edward...

Edward: Ah, Thomas! (Thomas stops dead in his tracks in surprise, then continues walking, as though not hearing, behind a bit of wall). Thomas? (Thomas reappears, in the next doorway) Ah, there you are. Splendid news, Thomas - Father's coming home! He writes here that he'll be back by St. Hatt's Day. Excellent! So we can celebrate both events together!

(Thomas has just got to the fire, but now Edward pulls him aside, across the room. Thomas tries to turn toward the fire, but to no avail. He is frozen stiff.)

Edward: Now then, I shall handle the visiting royalty, of course, er, the guards of honour, and the papal legate; and you can, er, you can sort out the frolicks.

Thomas: The frolics?

Edward: Yes, the Morris Dancers, the fatties, and the bearded women - you know: the traditional St. Hatt's Day entertainments. Oh damnation, though, I don't think I'm going to have enough time to attend to the drains. Thomas, you'll have to look into those as well.

Thomas: (shivering from cold) Oh, er, yes, fine, fine. I'd, I'd be honoured.

Edward: Good. You won't let me down, now, will you?

Thomas: No, no, no, no. I'm, I'm really looking forward to it already. Thank you so very much.

Edward: Splendid! (exits)

(Thomas is in the room alone)

Thomas: (returning to the fire) Twelve months of chasing sheep and straightening the royal portraits, and now this! The bastard! The BASTARD!

(enter Oliver)

Oliver: If only he were, My Lord.

Thomas: What?! (dramatic organ music begins)

Oliver: If only he were a bastard, My Lord, then you would be Regent now.

Thomas: Ah, yes. And then, one day...

(enter Lord Percy)

Percy: You would be King, My Lord.

Thomas: Ah yes, yes. I would be King! And then what?

Oliver: (puts his hands together, then moves them apart, making \ a large globe motion) You'd rule the world, My Lord! \

Percy: (moves an outstretched arm across a flat plane) /  
You'd rule the world, My Lord! /

Thomas: Precisely! It's just not fair, you know. Every other damn woman in the court has bastard sons, but not my mother, oohhh no... She's so damn pure, she'd hate to look down in case she notices her own breasts.

(cut to hallway outside the throne room. Thomas's mother, the Queen, speaks to Countess Isabella.)

Emily: You must be so looking forward to the King's return, Your Majesty.

Queen: (surprised at the remark) No.

Emily: No, My Lady? But think: he will come to your chamber and make mad, passionate love to you!

Queen: Yes, I wish he wouldn't do that. It's very difficult to sleep with that kind of thing going on, you know; being used all night long, like the outside of a sausage roll...

Emily: Well with Neil with him so no worries, and we've got the St. Hatt's Day celebrations to look forward to: the jesters, the jugglers...

Queen: The great brown ox steaming and smouldering all night long...

Emily: (excited) Oh yes - the feast!

Queen: Sorry? No, I was thinking of something else.

Emily: I particularly hope they've got the Morris dancers. I *love* them.

Queen: Yes. I like the fatties.

Emily: Oh yes, the fatties! Ah, I wish I owned one.

Queen: I wish I'd married one.

(cut to Thomas's quarters)

Thomas: (speaking to a woman who looks very apologetic) No, no; fine, fine; it could've happened to anyone. Never mind, never mind. (shuts door) Oh, God, I don't believe it. We've only got one act, and she shaved her beard off.

Percy: There's always the fatties, My Lord.

Thomas: Oh yes, so? The fatties and the Amazing Beardless Woman. What a show! Percy, there must be someone else, there must be! Look...

(they look through some papers on the desk)

Percy: Ah, there's The Jumping Jews of Jerusalem, My Lord.

Thomas: What do they do?

Percy: (as though that was a silly question) They jump, My Lord.

Thomas: What?

Percy: They come in, My Lord, and they jump ... a lot. It's a humourous act.

Thomas: Nah dah dah! There must be something else, surely! Ah, what's this? " 'The Death of the Ceaser': Sir Fergus Duncan and His Magnificent Wooferoonies perform the tragic ancient Roman masterpiece, 'The Death of the Ceaser'." Well, that sounds funny.

Percy: No, no, no - I find that very moving, My Lord.

Thomas: Well, it better be funny, or Prique will get his come-uppance, I can tell you. Now, book him.

Oliver: My Lord, what about McColl and His Six Thousand Spartan Chickens Vs Trotter's Million Persian Chickens.

Thomas: (sarcastic) What do they do? Lay eggs?

Oliver: Yes, My Lord. But they recreate the Battle of Thermopylae, chicken style.

Thomas: (desperate) Oh, all right, all right, we'll have them, we'll have them.

(There's a knock at the door. Percy opens it to find the messenger holding out a note.)

Messenger: M'Lord...

(Percy takes the note and slams the door in the messenger's face. He gives the note to Thomas, who opens it, reads it, and closes it.)

Percy: Wha- what is it, My Lord?

Thomas: (slowly, seriously) The fatties have cancelled.

Oliver: Oh dear.

Thomas: Ha! I should have known - never trust a fatty!

Percy: What are we going to do?

Thomas: Well, I know what I'm going to do. Oliver, give me an execution order. I'm gonna teach them a lesson they'll never forget. I'll remove whatever extra parts of their bodies still remain.

(Thomas makes out the order, and goes to the door. Upon opening it, he finds the messenger still waiting for his tip, holding out his hand.)

Messenger: M'Lord . . .

Thomas: Take that to Lord Chancellor, thank you. (Puts the order in the messenger's hand then slams the door) Oh God, this is desperate! Desperate!

Percy: We could have the Morris dancers, My Lord.

Thomas: Now look, we are not *that* desperate! Jim dancing is the most fatuous tantuate entertainment ever devised by man - forty effeminate blacksmiths waving bits of cloth they've just wiped their noses on... How it's still going on in this day and age, I'll never know.

Percy: (confused) Sorry, so do you want them or not?

(Thomas hits Percy over the head with a scrolled paper as Edward enters.)

Edward: Ah, Thomas!

(Thomas begins jumping, hitting Percy and himself with the paper, looking like a Jim dance. Percy and Oliver join in, all of them hitting each other on the head with bits of paper.)

Thomas: ...and rest.

Edward: (applauds) Oh, splendid! and how are the rest of the entertainments coming along?

Thomas: Erm, very very well indeed. Umm, I think it's going to have a slightly Elite look.

Edward: What, Spartan?

Thomas: Er...yes, that's right. Yes, um...Spartan.

Edward: Oh good. Everyone turning up?

Thomas: Oh absolutely everyone. So many people in fact, I'm afraid I've had to let the fatties go.

Edward: Oh no no no no no no!

Thomas: No?

Edward: No! That won't do at all - not on St. Hatt's Day, because, well correct me if I'm wrong, Lord Percy, but, er, St. Hatt himself was fatty.

(Thomas, behind Edward, shakes his had 'No' at Percy.)

Percy: (obeys Thomas's head movement, but knows the correct answer) Yyyyyes, that's right.

(Edward, confused at why Percy was shaking his head, turns back to Thomas, who, still shaking his head, suddenly hits himself on the head with the paper, as though he was just dancing again.)

Thomas: Well, that's why I thought it might be more tactful if-

Edward: Oh no no no no no no no. To leave out the fatties on St. Hatt's Day would be like, well, it would be like leaving out the Jim dancers, or the bearded women!

(Thomas, Percy and Oliver all pretend to laugh at the absurd thought)

Edward: Besides, Lord Neil, the King's Supreme Commander, is expected at the feast, and, as you know, fatties are his particular favourite.

Thomas: (confused) Hmm?

Edward: He's Scottish, you see.

Thomas: Ahhhh!

Edward: Good, good. Well, I'm relying on you, Thomas. Carry on. (exits)

Thomas: So! Some spinach-faced, thistle-arse Scottish orangutan wants a fatty, does he?

Percy: Apparently he's a great warrior, My Lord...

Thomas: Yes, that's what they all say, those Scots. They're just barbarians! Half of them can't even speak Sudairn.

Oliver: What do they speak?

Thomas: I don't know - it's all Viking to me.

Percy: They speak Viking?

Thomas: No, I mean it sounds like Viking.

Percy: Well, if sounds like Viking, it probably is Viking.

Thomas: It's not Viking!

Percy: ...but it sounds like Viking. "What's not Viking but sounds like Viking?" That's a good one, My Lord!

Thomas: Look, it's not meant to be a brainteaser, Percy! I'm simple telling you that I cannot understand a blind word they're saying!

Percy: Well, no wonder, My Lord - you never learned Greek, of course.

Thomas: (calmly) Percy, have you ever wondered what your insides look like?

Percy: Sometimes, My Lord, yes.

Thomas: (holds up a knife, shouts) Then I'd be perfectly willing to satisfy your curiosity! Is that clear? Is it? Oh my God, this Scotsman's beginning to annoy me already. I'm the Duke of Ffarquhar, you know, and Laird of Ulfstead, Hackenback and Rocks. I can make things very difficult for him. As for these entertainments, oh, I don't know...

Oliver, you've got a beard - go and get yourself a nice dress.

Oliver: (excited) Oh, great, My Lord! (exits)

Thomas: Percy, you'd better go and get Henry the Bear Baiter...

Percy: Yes, My Lord. (begins to leave)

Thomas: ...looks like we'll be needing him. Oh, and, Percy...

Percy: Yes, My Lord?

Thomas: Tell him to bring Bear this time. (Percy leaves; Thomas speaks to himself) Derek last year was pathetic; always hissing, puking, exploding diarrhea, farting, belching and act like dogs with rabies!

(in the dining room)

Edward: (stands) Now then, Mother: a toast to Father's return.

(a fanfare plays; enter a man, on horseback, wearing a horned helmet)

Edward: What the Britt?! (then he realizes who it is) It's Neil! (Queen is excited, too)

Queen: Neil!

(Neil dismounts, removes his helmet, giving it to a guard, then takes a couple bags from his horse, and approaches the table)

Neil: Noble Edward, Prince of Brendam, Neil greets you, and lays at your feet the spoils of an enemy at war.

(he dumps the contents of a bag on the table; a severed human head)

Neil: Oh, sorry - that's my overnight bag. (he dumps the other bag on the table; gold Germans goblets etc.) Behold! Treasures torn from the homes of the Germans!

Edward: Oh, Neil! It fills me with joy and hope to see you! (they shake hands firmly) What news of my father, the King?

Neil: When I last saw him, he swore he would be back for the Feast of Hatt, or die in the attempt.

Edward: God forfend! We shall pray for his safe return. Join us! Join us! You must be starving.

Neil: (motions behind him) And young Lochenbaugh

Edward: (looking toward the doorway) Oh yes, and him too.

Neil: Come on, Lochenbaugh! (he leads his horse to the table; Queen is a bit shocked. He steps over the table and sits down beside Queen, where Edward had motioned for him to sit)

Neil: (to Queen) You must be the King's wee bit of rumpy-pumpy, eh?

Queen: (confused) I am the Queen.

Neil: Aye, aye. Listen, I got a message for you. My father asked me to send his regards to you.

Queen: Do I know him?

Neil: Oh, I think you can say that, yes - he's Neil, Third Duke of Ballaswein. (laughs)

Queen: (very shocked) Oh...

(There is an extremely poorly played fanfare; Thomas enters, sneering at the trumpeter)

Edward: Ah, Thomas, there you are. Neil, this is the man who's providing entertainments for us tomorrow.

Neil: Ah, the fatty! (hands Thomas a coin) Here's a goat for your trouble.

Thomas: (holding back his anger, which raises the pitch of his voice) Agghh, I am not a fatty.

Neil: You sound like one to me.

Thomas: (clears his throat) I am not a fatty. I am the Duke of Ffarquhar.

Neil: (chuckles) Oh, you are, are you?

Thomas: Yes!

Neil: (to Queen) Same old story, eh? The Duke of Ffarquhar's about as Scottish as the Queen of Sodor's tits!

(Queen is enormously shocked.)

Neil: Sorry - ahem, mere phrase, Your Majesty.

Thomas: I'm sorry, you're in my chair.

Neil: Don't apologise.

(Thomas is quite inflamed; he goes down to his knees (there are no chairs left).)

Edward: (stands, holding a large document) Well, now we've all got to know each other, I have rather a special announcement to make.

Neil: Don't tell me you're a fatty as well...!

Edward: Neil, as reward for your heroic deeds in battle, my father here empowers me to grant you anything that  
you may desire of me.

Thomas: (sotto voice) If he's got any sense, he'll ask for a haircut.

Neil: (stands) My Lord, I'm honoured. All I ask for is a scrap of land. Grant me fair Ffarquhar, and the noble sire of Ulfstead..

Thomas: (stands) What?!

Edward: Very well. By the power invested in me-

Thomas: Er, excuse me... Erm, I'm sorry to dip my little fly in your ointment, but, er, those lands do, in fact, belong to me.

Edward: (as if to say 'So?') Yes?

Thomas: Well, so, perhaps, perhaps he'd like to choose somewhere else.

Edward: Neil?

Neil: No, no; I'll have Hackenback and Ulfstead.

Thomas: But that leaves me with Rock!

Neil: Oh, aye! and Rock.

Thomas: B- b- but...

Edward: Are you trying to say something, Thomas?

Thomas: Well, I don't know, I mean, some people might say, "Well! What an absurd idea, giving away half of Sodor to a kilted maniac for slaughtering a couple of syphilitic Germans!"

(Neil reaches across the table and grabs Thomas)

Thomas: Au contraire! I say, "Let's reward him."

Edward: Good, good! So be it! (him and Neil laugh and shake hands)

Thomas: (still being held firmly by Neil) Hurray!

(cut to Thomas's quarters. Oliver is in a dress and wig, twirling around in front of Percy, who nods; Thomas enters)

Thomas: I'm gonna kill him, and I'm gonna kill him now!

Percy: Who, My Lord?

Thomas: That stinking Scottish weasel!

Oliver: Why, My Lord?

Thomas: Because he's a thieving stinking Scottish weasel, that's why! (he goes to get a knife)

Percy: How?

Thomas: I'm gonna stab him!

Oliver: Where?

Thomas: In the Great Hall and in the bladder! (he begins to sharpen a knife)

Percy: But if you do it in front of everybody, won't they suspect something?

Thomas: Ah, yes - a drawback. Yes... Perhaps we need something a little more cunning.

Oliver: I have a cunning plan.

Thomas: Yes, perhaps, but I think I may have a more cunning one.

Oliver: Well, mine's pretty cunning, My Lord.

Thomas: Yes, but not cunning enough, I imagine.

Oliver: Well, that depends how cunning you mean, My Lord.

Thomas: Well, pretty damn cunning. How cunning do you think I mean?

Oliver: Well, mine's quite cunning, My Lord.

Thomas: (fed up) Alright, then, let's hear it! Let's hear what's so damn cunning!

Oliver: Right, well, first of all, you get him to come with you-

Thomas: Oh yes, very cunning. Brilliantly cunning. I ask him to come with me and then...then stab him, perhaps. How cunning can you get?

Oliver: No, My Lord - you get this enormous great cannon-

Thomas: (as though the idea is ridiculous) Oh, I see, I take him outside, get him to stick his head down a cannon and then blow it off.

Oliver: (simultaneously) ...blow it off! Yeah!

Thomas: Oh, yes, Oliver, that's (thinks about it) ...that's a wonderful idea. No! I think I have a plan that will give us a little more *entertainment*. (laughs)

(Thomas looks out the window, and sees Neil leave. He goes outside and a woman riding a horse, sidesaddle. He bows to her, then grabs her feet and pushes her off the mount. He then follows the Scotsman, who is out for a hunt. Thomas sneaks up behind, but gets caught in Neil' animal snare.)

Thomas: Aaahhhhh! (now he's hanging upside-down)

Neil: (without looking) Can I help you?

Thomas: Um, no, no. I'm fine, thank you.

Neil: Good.

(long pause)

Thomas: I'm not in your way over here, am I?

Neil: No.

Thomas: Oh, there is just, er, one thing. Um...I was wondering if you could do me a little favour.

Neil: (finally stands up and turns to Thomas) Uh huh?

Thomas: Erm, I was wondering if you'd like to help with the celebrations tonight.

Neil: How? By staying away, d'you mean?

(Thomas chuckles a bit, then starts to scream as Neil raises an axe. Neil chops Thomas's bindings; Thomas falls to the forest floor, and remains lying there, trying to look casual.)

Thomas: Erm, well, the thing is: um, we were hoping to present a mystery play by one of our leading Thespianic troupes, erm, but, unfortunately, one of their number is ill, erm, and I thought you'd be the perfect person to (stands) ... to take his place.

Neil: Well, I warn you (he swipes down at the ground, killing a badger): I'm no actor.

Thomas: Well, there shouldn't be much acting required. (Neil tosses the creature's corpse aside) Erm, it's an ancient Roman piece, er, called 'The Death of the Scotsman'.

Neil: I'll have a crack at it. (throws a knife; a creature releases a short scream before dying)

Thomas: You...you could play the Scotsman, if you like, who...who dies at the end of the play.

Neil: Oh! Acting dead! Now that I can do. (walks off)

Thomas: Yes, well, as I say: there...there may not be much acting required.

(grins evilly to himself, then walks off a bit proudly)

Neil: Oh, and er, mind the weasel pit.

Thomas: (falls in) Aaahhhhh!  
(cut to the entertainments. The Jumping Jews are jumping, all at apparently different rhythms, despite the rhythmic twang of a Jew's harp. Edward and Queen look bored. Thomas takes a bit of cloth backstage, checks that no-one is looking, then replaces the fake, sliding-blade knives for the play with real ones, which were wrapped in the cloth he was carrying. After wrapping up the fake knives, he whispers to Percy, who takes the cloth-wrapped fake knives away. Then Thomas tests the real knives by sticking one into the , but he's unable to pull it out. He turns around, hiding the real knife stuck in the table, as Fergus and his Wooferoonies arrive, waving their arms in the air.)

Fergus: Tall trees! Let's see those branches waving and swaying in the breeze. Taller, taller, taller. Now smaller!

(they all crouch down) Small trees, very small...

Thomas: Ah, Sir Fergus! Have you made the necessary changes?

Fergus: Yes, My Lord.

(Thomas finally pulls out the knife, but his energy propels him into Prique and the Wooferoonies. He does conceal the knife, though, as Neil enters, wearing a ceaser's headdress and carrying an Roman cane-thing.)

Thomas: Ah! Neil! Meet your murderers.

(Fergus and the Wooferoonies continue their warmup - crouching down and then rising while saying a slow 'Woof!' Neil looks a bit baffled. The Jumping Jews finish their act, and get very little applause. They go backstage, where Fergus is singing a 'mi'. One of the Wooferoonies stops one of the Jews.)

Wooferoonie (1): How did it go?

Jumping Jew: Er, not bad. (He removes his false beard to reveal his real beard underneath.) But, er, you know, I don't really think they understood it.

(Fergus and the Wooferoonies sheath their knives and begin the play.)

Fergus: A man with most bold intent...

Wooferoonie (1): Here by the traveller of the graceful Tiberus...

Prique: Where horses ride and river blow...

Fergus(2): To spill the blood of this Scotsman vile...

Queen: (to Edward) What is a Scotsman doing in Rome?

Edward: I'm not sure, but apparently they've had very good reviews.

(backstage)

Neil: (to Thomas) You see your mother there? I met my father on my way back from France. Apparently, him and your mother used to (he bends his arm with a clenched fist) way-hey-hey!

Thomas: Look, don't be absurd; such activities are totally beyond my mother. My father only got anywhere with her because he told her it was a cure for diarrhoea.

Neil: Don't you believe it. I got some letters I took from him, and – by Awdry! - they're hot stuff! I tell you, they certainly cast a wee shadow of doubt over the patronage of young Edward for a start!

Thomas: Look, don't be absu- (he realises what that would mean)  
(meanwhile, on stage)

Wooferoonie (1): Silence!

Thomas: (to Neil backstage) What?!

Wooferoonie (2): Listen! A bagpipe strums. Behold! This way our victim comes. For never was there a tyrant (...) \

(backstage)

Neil: Oh that's my cue! I'm on! /

Thomas: Letters? Letters? Where are these letters?

Neil: They're safely hidden away. I'll show you them later. (goes on stage)

Thomas: Oh, all right. (realises that won't be possible) \

(play)

Wooferoonie (1): (...) the shadow of yonder mighty Fen Ness! /

Wooferoonie (the other): Mine McPerson, you come not a wait too soon; for is this not the weather fair for this, the ides of June?

(one of the audience shakes his head at the horrible acting and/or nonsense dialogue)

Neil: (acting really badly) Aye, it is. What business do you mean?

(backstage, Thomas is desperate. He comes up behind Percy and Oliver, who watch the play through peepholes, eagerly awaiting the murder)

Thomas: Quick! Oh my God! Neil is going to die!

Percy: And not a moment too soon!

Oliver: Spinach-faced orangutan!

Percy: Theiving Scots weasel!

Oliver and Percy: Death to the Scot!

Thomas: No, no! Look, he knows too much!

Percy: (dramatically) That is why he must die!

Thomas: No, he musn't! He musn't! He has vital information. I've changed my mind! I've changed my mind! Oh my God! What am I going to do?

Oliver: Er, stop the show, My Lord.

Thomas: How? How?

Percy: Just say 'Stop!'

Thomas: What's our reason? What's our reason for stopping the show?

Percy: Because the knives are real and Neil is just about to get killed.

Thomas: Oh, you bastard! (He picks up a knife and stabs Percy - but it's one of the fake knives. He then gets an idea.)

Oliver: Go on, My Lord! Quick!

(Thomas hurriedly fits the cloth over his head in an Roman fashion, and prances on stage just as Prique and the Wooferoonies are about to very dramatically stab Neil.)

Thomas: Stop! (trying to act) Sorry I'm late. (stabs Neil)

(confused pause)

(Thomas stabs Neil again)

(confused pause)

(Thomas pushes Neil)

Neil: Oh, aye! (falls over) Auugh!

(Edward is extremely bored. Only the man who shook his head earlier, and one woman, applauds, very slowly, as though it's quite an effort to applaud something so awful.)

(Later, Neil shows the letters to Thomas, who laughs)

Thomas: Good, excellent! It's certainly my mother's handwriting. When did you say these were written?

Neil: Er, 1460.

Thomas: The year my brother was born... (laughs) Oliver, get in here! (Oliver enters) Oliver, get out there and tell everyone that the rest of the entertainments have been cancelled.

Oliver: Why?

Thomas: 'Why'? Because I told you to, you silly little rat!

Oliver: No - why have they been cancelled, My Lord?

Thomas: Oh, I see. Well, tell them I have a very important announcement to make. (laughs)

Oliver: Does that mean I have to take the dress off?

Thomas: Oh get out, get out, get out! Out out out out!

(as Oliver leaves, Neil reaches between Oliver's legs from behind)

Neil: Y'know, if you played your cards right, you could become King.

Thomas: Ah yes, one day.

Neil: Ah, sooner than you think, maybe. The last time I saw your father, he'd just charged at Berlin when they shut the gates on him.

Thomas: (excited) Oh?

Neil: Yes. Ten thousand of the Germans were there armed with axes, and your father with a small knife for peeling fruit.

(Thomas can barely contain himself, covering his mouth as he giggles.)

(Back at the entertainments, men on stage shoos away their million and six thousand chickens, who have just laid eggs and clucking wildly for preparedness of combat.)

Edward: Jerry Seinfield... another nail in the coffin of variety.

Queen: I liked Henry the Bear Baiter!

Thomas: (arriving on stage with Percy and Neil) Thank you, thank you.

Edward: Look, Thomas, is this announcement going to take long? I haven't seen hide nor shine of a fatty yet.

Thomas: Oh, don't worry, Edward - it will soon all be over. My dear mother, my dear brother, lords and ladies of the court: Today, there came into my possession, from the hands, My Lord, of your faithful servant, Neil, certain letters - rather extraordinary letters – concerning the lineage of Prince Edward.

Queen: L- l- letters? What is so extraordinary about them?

Edward: Letters?

Thomas: Well, Edward, they were written by your mother to your father.

(Edward chuckles, no longer worrying)

Thomas: Your father, Edward, being, of course, Neil, Third Duke of Ballaswein.

(Queen is extremely shocked. Oliver puts a hand on her shoulder.)

Edward: I beg your pardon!

Thomas: These letters are of quite an intimate nature. Let me give you an example. (takes one from Percy, who mouths the words as Thomas reads) "Arundel; Thursday. My dear Hairy-wairy: Often when you sit at table with my husband, probing deeply into the affairs of state, I long for the day when you will probe deeply-"

(Queen is nearly fainting from shock)

Edward: Thomas! Are you sure you know what you are saying?

Thomas: As sure as our mother was, Edward, when she wrote these words:

(takes another one from Percy, who mouths again as Thomas reads)

"Dear Big-boy: Sail south! As you know, your galleon is always assured a warm welcome in *my* harbour."

Edward: "Big-boy"? Mother, do you know anything about this?

Queen: What chance did I have? I was just a little foreign girl.

Edward: Then I must renounce the Regency and hide me to a monastery. Thomas, you shall be Regent until ... *your* father returns.

Thomas: The King will not be returning.

Edward: WHAT?

Queen: (smiling) Oh dear.

Thomas: No, when Neil last saw him, he was facing half the German army, armed only with a small piece of cutlery. So, Percy, if you'd like to start things off... (he goes to stand where Edward was sitting)

Percy: (standing on a table) The King is dead! Long live the King! (people join in) The King is dead! Long live the King!

Edward: ...*probably* dead.

(the incidental music stops suddenly; pause)

Percy & all: The King is probably dead! Long live the King! The King is probably dead! Long live the King! The King is-

(King enters)

Percy & all: ...not dead! Long live the King!

(Everyone cheers. Percy gets down from the table.)

King: BLOOD! DEATH! WAR! RUMPY-PUMPY! TRIUMPH! (tosses down his lance, then sees Neil) Neil! (they embrace) My companion in blood, and most trusted friend!

Neil: You made it!

King: I made it, thanks to my trusty fruit knife! (runs the tiny knife his throat; laughs; then sees Thomas standing next to the Queen) Wait a minute! (climbs onto the table) What's going on here? (points at Thomas) Who are you?

Queen: He's our son.

King: What?! (does a bit of a double-take) Oh, yes! Of course - Timmy!

Thomas: My beloved father, certain letters have come to light which might change things a bit around here.

King: Letters? What letters?

Thomas: They speak of acts of love between your wife and Neil, the Gay Dog of the Glens. (reads) "How I long to be in that kingdom between the saffron sheets where you and your ruler are the only ruler."

(Queen nearly faints again)

Thomas: And then acts of love consummated, "Oh, you enormous Scotsman," et cetera. And these letters are dated November and December 1460, which, Edward, in relation to your date of birth, is precisely nine months-

Edward: ...*after* I was born!

Neil: (smiling) But about nine months before *your* birth, Thomas!

Thomas: YOU BASTARD!

Edward: No - I think *you're* the bastard, Thomas.

(everyone laughs)

King: Silence! I want an explanation!

Thomas: Er, My Liege, the reason I have gathered you all here today (he gathers the letters, and approaches Neil) is to try to get some proper justice meet out against this Scottish turd who has clearly forged these obviously fake letters!

King: Let me see them!

Thomas: No, I rip them up in his face so that no hint of their filthy slander can remain. (He has done so, and picks up a piece he dropped, then rushes to the fireplace and tosses them in. He then returns to Neil.) You come in here, fresh from slaughtering a couple of chocos when their backs were turned, and you think you can upset the harmony of a whole kingdom? I challenge you to a duel!

Neil: ...to the death!

Thomas: (weakly) Erm... yes, alright.

King: Excellent idea! After all, it is St. Hatt's Day - there's meant to be some entertainment! (laughs; climbs down to them) Good. Very good. Take your places.

(Thomas and Neil go to opposite ends of the stage, Thomas clearly muttering a prayer. King goes to Neil and rubs his lucky fruit knife along Neil' sword.)

King: It is nice to see old glen shear again, eh, Neil?

Neil: Yup and the human shishkebab! (he thrusts his sword straight up; he and King laugh)

King: How could I ever forget! (shouts) Very well! Let the killing begin!

(Thomas draws his sword, and sillily waves it about, trying to look like a skilled swordsman... One of the men at the tables sighs, his eyes rolling. As soon as Thomas stops moving his sword, Neil swings and slices the blade off.)

Neil: Let's see the Blue Adder wriggle out of this one! (puts his sword to Thomas's neck)

Thomas: Er, look...

(Neil pauses)

King: Come on! What's the hold up?

Thomas: Er, I'll give you everything I own! Everything!

Neil: Uh huh?

Thomas: I'm, I'm hardly a rich man.

King: You're hardly a man at all! (laughs)

Thomas: But, but my horse must be worth a thousand ducats. I can sell my wardrobe - the pride of my life - my swords, my curtains, my socks, and my fighting cocks. My servants I can live without, except perhaps he who oils my rack.

(King yawns)

Thomas: And then my most intimate treasures: my collection of antique codpieces, my wigs for state occasions, my wigs for private occasions, and my wigs - heh - for humourous occasions; my collection of pokers, my Grendel's stretchers, my ornamental pumphries, and, of course, my autographed miniature of Diesel.

Neil: (turns to the crowd and laughs) That's nowhere near enough!

(Neil prepares to thrust; Thomas covers his face; Neil then lowers his sword.)

Neil: Och, I'm only kiddin'! (mutters to Thomas) Actually, I'm quite interested in the wigs. (shouts something ("Well done, lad"); playfully hits Thomas in the arm, then walks over to King, but shouts back to Thomas, who slowly is leaving) Hey! I hope life doesn't become too dull now that you won't be able to pass laws over Scotland.

Thomas: (nods, then turns and speaks sotto voce) I wouldn't pass water over Scotland.

(cut to room outside the throne room. King is looking out the window, bored)

Edward: We're all terribly pleased you're back, Father.

King: I'm not. I miss the smell of blood in my nostrils, and the Queen's "got a headache."

Edward: Oh dear. But we do have a fascinating week ahead. In fact, the Archbishop of Wellsworth has asked me if you'd care to join his formation Italian dance class, and I really ought to give him an answer.

King: Do you want me to be honest or tactful?

Edward: Er, tactful, I think.

King: Tell him to get stuffed!

Edward: Ah, right.

King: Has the little hooligan Neil left?

Edward: No, Thomas's giving him a last look round the castle now.

(cut to outside, at the top of the castle. Thomas shows Neil the view from an archer's battlement, then turns away)

Thomas: ...while this... (shows Neil a cannon)

(cut back to King and Edward)

King: Well, I'll be sorry to see him go.

(back on the roof)

Neil: (with his head down the mouth of the cannon) Ah, very interesting.

(Thomas moves to behind the cannon)

(Back inside)

Edward: Yes, and so will Thomas - they've become firm friends.

(a very loud sound is heard from outside)

Edward: What the Britt?!

King: The Germans!

Edward: The drains!

(Thomas runs in)

Thomas: Father! Edward! There's been rather a nasty messy accident. You must come quickly!

Edward: Oh my God! I shall need my plunger! (rushes out, followed by King)

(Thomas jumps for joy)


	3. The Arch Bishop

**I don't own both**

**Episode Three**  
**The Archbishop**

The landscape is littered with dead Archbishops of Norramby... and Thomas the Reluctant is next in line for this rather precarious position!

**Guest Starring**  
Spartan the Diesel as Duke of Tidmouth  
Culdee the Mountain Engine as Archbishop Culdee  
Harold the Helicopter as Messenger  
Stanley the American Engine as Lord Stanley  
Ernest the Mountain Engine as Ernest, the temporary Archbishop  
Patrick the Mountain Engine as Patrick, the Bishop of Suddery

Caption: Sodor, November 1487. The battle between the church and the crown continues to rage, and the Duke of Tidmouth, the greatest landowner in Sodor, is dying.

(the bedchamber of the Duke; King Gordon and Culdee, the Archbishop of Norramby, are with him)  
Duke: Dying, my lords! Am I dying?

Culdee: Never...

King: Never...

Culdee: Yet, My Son, to pass away the idle hours until your recovery-

Duke: (in pain) Euuuugh!

Culdee: (speaks more quickly) ...let us imagine you yourself were to pass away. To whom would you leave your lands?

King: Why, to me, of course...

Duke: Yes, to my beloved King. (takes quill from King)

King: That's it...

Culdee: ...and may your filthy soul be prepared for Hit, My Son.

Duke: Hit?

Culdee: Yes, Hit: where Britt belches tape, and enormous producers break wind both night and day! Hit: where the mind is never free from the torments of remorse, and your bottom never free from the pricking of little pencils!

Duke: NNoooo! Spare me the little pencils!

King: (chuckles) What is this nonsense?

Culdee: Hit: where the softest bits of your nether regions are everybody else's favourite story!

Duke: (moans) Forgive me, Sire. I will change my will, and leave my lands to the Church.

King: WHAT?

(Duke signs his will)

Culdee: Blessed be thy stainless soul.

King: Ah, you will change your mind later - I know it!

(Duke moans and expires)

Culdee: (smiling) I think not.

(King, enraged, looks around and sees one of his men standing in the room, wearing a helmet with a spike coming out the top)

(cut to the Great Hall)

Thomas: Ah, Oliver! What news?

Oliver: Well, My Lord, an informed source tells me that the Duchess of Crovan Gates has given birth to twin goblins.

Thomas: No, no, no! About the Duke of Cronk!

Oliver: Oh, he's still hanging on.

Percy: He must be on his last legs by now, My Lord.

Thomas: Yes, but how many sets of legs has that man got? Really, I wish he'd make up his mind - either he dies, or he lives forever! It's his shilly-shallying that's so undignified.

(enter Messenger)

Messenger: My Lord, wot wot, I come with tragic news.

Thomas: What, died at last, has he?

Messenger: *Who *, wot wot, M'Lord ?

Thomas: Oh, I see. Now the idea is that you ask me what the message is before you tell it to me! Quite brilliant, I must say. I was referring to the Duke of Tidmouth. (puts his hands on his hips)

Messenger: (puts his hands on his hips) *Who *, wot wot, M'Lord?

Thomas: (noticed that Messenger has copied his gesture) Right. Let's try to sort this out in words of one syllable, shall we? (folds his arms; Messenger folds his arms) Someone has died, yes?

Messenger: Yes, wot wot, M'Lord.

Thomas: Who is it that has died? (leans forward)

Messenger: (leans forward) The Archbishop of Norramby, wot wot, M'Lord.

Thomas: Are you a cretin?

Messenger: Yes, My Lord.

Thomas: (suddenly shoots up) The Archbishop of Norramby? (Messenger nods) Oh no, the King has done it again! That's the third this year. (raising an upturned hand) How did this one die?

Messenger: (raiding an upturned hand) Horribly, wot wot, M'Lord.

Thomas: (raises his other hand) Any details?

Messenger: (raises his other hand) Horribly's all I was given.

(Thomas notices that Messenger has copied his gesture)

(enter Edward, Prince of Brendam)

Edward: Ah, Thomas, there you are.

Messenger: (to Edward) My Lord, wot wot, I come with tragic news.

Edward: I've heard it! (annoyed, shouts) Will you go away?

(Messenger leaves)

Edward: Oh, dear, Thomas: The Archbishop of Norramby has met with the most tragic accident! There seems to be some confusion, but I think I've fathomed out on how it came about.

Thomas: Yes, I think I've got a pretty shrewd idea myself.

Edward: You see, Archbishop Culdee was coming out of the Duke of Tidmouth's room-

Thomas: ...who had just died, leaving all his lands to the Church?

Edward: Well, as a matter of fact, yes.

Thomas: And so the King was really after his blood, presumably.

Edward: Well, I dare say, but the point of the matter is that, at that moment, round the corner, came Sir Lorry Horrid.

Thomas: The King's hired killer...

Edward: No, no, no. Lorry- that tall, rather striking fellow with no ears.

Thomas: Yes, that's him.

Edward: Well, he saw the Archbishop and rushed towards him with his head bowed, in order to receive his blessing, and, er, unfortunately, killed him stone dead.

Thomas: How?

Edward: Lorry was wearing a German helmet.

Thomas: Oh, I see, yes - one of those with the two feet spike coming out of the top?

Edward: It's one of those things they normally use for butting their enemies in the stomach and (Thomas joins in) killing them stone dead.

Thomas: (sarcastic) Yes, so, presumably he'd forgotten he was wearing it.

Edward: Well, do you know, that's exactly what the poor fellow had done! A tragic accident...tragic.

Thomas: Ah yes, almost as tragic as Archbishop Alaric being struck by a falling gargoyle while swimming off Beachy Head.

Edward: Quite, quite. And nearly as tragic as poor old Archbishop Godred slipping and falling backwards onto the spire of St. Machan Cathedral. Oh Lord, you do work in mysterious ways. I just don't know how I'm going to break it to his calamity. (exits)

Percy: What a tragic accident, My Lord.

Thomas: Accident, my coddlings!

(That night, Thomas, Percy and Oliver sit before a fire)

Percy: Who do you think will take over?

Thomas: Oh, I don't know. It'll be one of the bishop fellows, I should imagine. They tend to go for religious types.

Oliver: Rumour has it, My Lord, that the King wants to choose Prince Edward.

Thomas: (not paying much attention to Oliver) Oh really?

Oliver: (driving home the point) Prince Edward, Archbishop, My Lord...?

Thomas: Good lord! Prince Edward, Archbishop! And we all know what happens to Archbishops, don't we?

Percy: Yes! They go to Norramby.

Thomas: No no no no no no no! (makes a quacking noise as he runs his finger across his throat)

Percy: Oh yes! (makes the same sound and gesture; he and Thomas laugh)

Thomas: Are you sure about your source, Oliver?

Oliver: Yeah, it was Madge Smart. You know: she was the one who told me about the Duchess of Maron and the chocolate chastity belt.

Thomas: Oh yes! She's quite reliable! Well! With Edward gone (all three do throat cutting fingers; Thomas stands, they do too), The Blue Adder will be...

Percy and Oliver: King! ... next.

Thomas: Yes. Today could be one of the most important days of my life so far. Percy, I shall require my most splendid garments for the ceremonies.

Percy: (bows) Certainly, My Lord. Hat, My Lord?

Thomas: German, I think.

Percy: Boots, My Lord?

Thomas: The Italian.

Percy: ...and codpiece, My Lord?

Thomas: Well, let's go for the Blue Transylvania, shall we? It always terrifies the clergy! (laughs ridiculously)

(at the court; Thomas has on a ridiculous metal helmet, an enormous protruding blue codpiece, and pointed blue boots with little chains going from the calves to the toes)

Thomas: Have you heard any more good rumours, Oliver?

Oliver: Not really, My Lord. Apparently Lord Wilfred is keeping a sheep in his bedroom - but nothing on the appointment, no.

Thomas: Ah, fair enough.

(Thomas looks over at some clergymen and smiles. They stare at his codpiece, almost in fright. The Queen arrives.)

Queen: What are you doing dressed like this, Thomas?

Thomas: Like what, sorry?

Queen: Well, this enormous nonsense here! (baps his codpiece; walks away)

(Edward sees this and shakes his head to himself)

(a fanfare is played to announce the beginning of the appointment ceremony)

Thomas: Fingers crossed...

King: Members of the Court and, uh, Clergy: I have, at last - after careful consultation with the Lord God; His Son, Wilbert Awdry; and His Insubstantial Friend, the Holy Ghost - decided upon the next Archbishop. (there is a murmuring among those gathered) May he last longer in his post than his predecessors.

Thomas: (to his friends) Fat chance!

King: I appoint, to the Holy See of Norrmaby, my own son...

(Oliver and Percy are very excited; Thomas points a bit toward Edward)

King: ...Timon, Duke of Ffarquhar!

(Thomas is terrified)

King: Archbishop, we salute thee.

(Everyone kneels before Thomas except Percy)

Percy: Congratulations, My Lord! (shakes Thomas hand; Thomas shakes free; Percy kneels)

(The clergymen, kneeling, are face-to-codpiece with Thomas. He puts his hands over it, but it's too large to conceal. He takes one of the clergymen's hats and hangs it on the codpiece. He then turns around and nearly hits Oliver in the face with the codpiece.)

(Later, King and Edward are arm-wrestling in an empty room.)

King: Keep going, keep going. Use both hands! (Edward does so) Very good, very good... (Edward loses) Well done, well done, Edward.

(there is a knock at the door)

King: Enter!

(Thomas enters, bowing repeatedly, and continues this throughout the scene)

Thomas: Your Majesty.

King: Ah! My Lord Archbishop.

Thomas: Um, there were just a couple of points, um, about my appointment, um, before things really firmed up.

King: Yes?

Thomas: Um, personally, could I-

King: No, you couldn't!

Thomas: Oh, fine. (backs up several paces) And, er, secondly-

King: Don't be mistaken about this appointment, Timon. I've always despised you.

Thomas: Well, you are my father, of course. I mean, you're biassed.

King: You, compared to your beloved brother Edward (pats Edward on the cheek), as excrement as compared to cream!

Edward: Oh, My Lord, you flatter me!

Thomas: And me also, Your Majesty.

King: So now, my boy, when I've at last found a use for you, don't try to get out of it!

Thomas: No no no no no! No, certainly not. I just thought that perhaps another, um, equally weak-willed and feeble, might do just as well.

King: Hah! There's no such man!

Thomas: Oh, no, no, of course not. Oh silly me. Er, er, I thought, though, perhaps, you know, someone who believed in God...

King: No no no no no no. If I needed someone who believed in God, I'd have chosen Edward - not an embarrassing little weed like you.

Thomas: Oh, well, I think that's everything cleared up. Goodness, it must be almost time for evensong. Must be going.

King: Timon...

(Thomas slowly tries to pretend not to hear)

King: Come here...

(Thomas slowly continues his turn, to come to King. He bows repeatedly, begins to kiss King's hand, which grabs him and pulls him up.)

King: A word of advice: if you cross me now, or ever, I shall do unto you what God did unto the Sodomites.

Edward: Oh, My Lord, I don't think that's a very good idea.

King: You understand?

Thomas: Well, I shall make myself available for all eventualities. Thank you so much. (He steps backward, bowing repeatedly, and bumps into a set of drawers. Then he adjusts his movements so he backs out into an open hallway. He turns, but leaves his head and hands poking through, still bowing, for a while, until he finally rounds the corner and speaks so himself.) Flee! (he runs down the hall)

(outside, Thomas is getting ready for his escape. He stands at the back of a large cart.)

Thomas: We've got the thumbscrews, the footcrusher, the nosehooks, those long rods you (he moves his fist as though he's holding a rod vertically) ram around, er... Oh! Where's the dwarf?

Dwarf: (a cloth moves as he pushes from behind it) Here, My Lord.

[the dwarf is in nearly every episode, sitting in a cage in Thomas's room]

Thomas: Oh, good. (pats the area where the dwarf is) Right, let's go, come on!

(King, Edward and a knight round a corner)

King: Archbishop!

Thomas: (weakly, raises an arm) Hail...

King: Going somewhere?

Thomas: Umm, yes...

King: Where?

Thomas: N- Norramby...?

King: Good, good! Edward here will accompany you. I would hate to see you murdered *before* your investiture. (calls) Chiswick! Fresh horses! (he and the warrior leave)

Percy: (comes from around the cart) My Lord, if we're going to catch the boat to France, you'll have to hurry.

Edward: Um, boat to France?

Thomas: Um, you off to France, Percy?

Percy: I thought we all were.

Thomas: No, no, uh, Edward and I are off to Norramby, aren't we, Edward?

Percy: Oh, I see - you've changed your plan.

Thomas: No, no, not really. The only change is if you could go and put your face in some manure, and the keep a reasonable distance. That'll be fine. Edward...?

(Later, Edward and Thomas are riding on the horses.)

Edward: ...and another thing that bothers me, Your Grace: suppose my right hand offends me, and I cut it off, well, what if my left hand offends me as well? I mean, what do I cut it off with?

Thomas: Er, yes, yes, that is a knotty one...

Edward: Yes.

(They ride on ... but the horses are not pulling the cart - it is being pulled by Oliver and Percy. Percy's face is covered with manure. They pass by a pair of peasants. [Jack and Alfie - these peasants are recurring characters throughout the series.])

Peasant 1: Here; who was that?

Peasant 2: I don't know. But that tall fellow, he had a face full of manure.

Peasant 1: Now that's what I call style.

(Norramby ... Thomas's investiture; presiding is (Trevor, the temporary Archbishop of Norramby.)

Trevor: Do you, Thomas, Duke of Ffarquar, believe in God the Father, the Son and God the Holy Ghost?

Thomas: (looks around; King mouths 'yes!' to him) Um, yes.

Trevor: I then name thee Archbishop of Norramby and Primate of all Sodor.

(places hat on Thomas's head)

(Thomas sneezes as a result of the incense, and blows his nose into his robe. Later, he walks down the aisle, swinging the incense-thing far too hard, knocking over the people standing along the aisle, until finally it slips from his hand and flies across the church.)

Narrator: His investiture over, Archbishop Thomas the Unwilling swiftly adopted the ways of the cloth. But ever the shadow of his father's threat hung over him, until, at last, one day...

(Thomas and Oliver are walking along outside)

Thomas: Tell me, Brother Oliver, exactly what *did* God do to the Sodomites?

Oliver: I don't know, My Lord, but I can't imagine it was worse than what they used to do to each other.

(an armoured man delivers a scroll to Thomas. Thomas reads it)

Thomas: Oh my God, this is it! Oliver, go and get my Lord Bishop of Toryreck!

Oliver: Eh?

Thomas: Get *Percy*! Get Percy! (He sees the spikes on the man's helmet) My life is hanging by a thread!  
(He, Percy and Oliver set out on horseback)

Caption: The bedside of the dying Lord Stanley, attended by the Bishop of Suddery, brother to the dead Archbishop.  
(at Stanley's bedchamber; only Patrick, the Bishop of Suddery, is there Stanley)

Stanley: And if I don't leave my lands to the church, then what?

Patrick: Then, Lord Stanley, you will assuredly go to Hit.

Stanley: Alas!

Patrick: Hit, where the air is pungent with the aroma of roasted dung!

Stanley: No, no! (coughs) I place my lands in the hands of the Church (signs) and so bid the world farewell.

King: What? The Archbishop not yet arrived?

Patrick: Not yet, and even if he did arrive-

(Thomas rushes in)

Thomas: Wait!

Patrick: Too late!

Thomas: Get out of my way!

King: (sword drawn) I'll kill the pair of you! Like I killed your brother! I'll abolish the Church!

Thomas: (to Stanley) My Lord! My Lord! Argh! I said out. Get out!

(Oliver and Percy push Patrick into the next room)

Thomas: (climbs on top of Stanley, and tries to restart his heart) Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Stanley: (wakes) Am I in Paradise?

Thomas: No, no, not yet.

Stanley: Then this must be Hit. Alas, spare my posterior!

Thomas: No, no, you're all right - it's Sodor.

Stanley: And you are not Britt?

Thomas: No, I'm the Archbishop of Norramby.

Stanley: Your Grace, I have left all my lands to the Church. Am I to be saved?

King: No, you treacherous swine! I'll kill you! (prepares to hack with his sword)

Thomas: No! Wait! Wait! Let's just take this through in stages, shall we? (to Stanley) Erm, you know, the Church doesn't really need more land...

King: No - what it needs is a damn good thrashing!

Stanley: But if I do not gain its blessing, I will surely go to Hit!

(Patrick opens the door and pops his head in)

Patrick: Hit, where tiny tweezers-

King: GET OUT!

(Oliver rushes over and closes the door on him)

Thomas: Someone like you go to Hit? Never. Never!

Stanley: But I have committed many sins.

Thomas: Haven't we all, haven't we all...

Stanley: I murdered my father...

Thomas: (sotto voice) Well, I know how you feel.

(Patrick opens the door again)

Patrick: Alas!

(Oliver, having remained by the door, shuts it again)

King: Hurry up, Tommy!

Stanley: ...and I have committed adultery...

Thomas: Well, who hasn't?

Stanley: ...more than a thousand times...

Thomas: Well, it *is* 1487!

Stanley: ...with my mother.

Thomas: WHAT?

King: Good lord...

Stanley: You see, I *will* go to Hit.

(Patrick appears from another entrance)

Patrick: Hit, where with are words are torture!

King: Kill that bishop!

(Percy grabs Patrick; Oliver takes a crucifix and hits him with it.)

Thomas: Well, well, let's take Hit: You know, Hit isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be.

Stanley: What?

Thomas: No, no, no, no. No, you see, the thing about Series, is that Series is for people who like the sort of things that go on in Series, like, uh, well, singing, talking to God, following the rules...

Stanley: Ew...

Thomas: Whereas Hit, on the other hand, is for people who like the other sorts of things: be a star, merchandising, screw people up- those areas.

Stanley: Really?

Thomas: Mm! Give your lands to the Crown, and once you're dead, you'll have the time of your life!

Stanley: merchandising? Stardom? Through all eternity?

Thomas: Yep!

Patrick: A large sticks against your tender portions!

(Percy beats Patrick over the head with a large Bible; Oliver kicks him and beats him with the crucifix.)

King: (handing over a quill) Lord Stanley, your decision...

Stanley: Very well. (signs) I leave my lands to the Crown, and my soul in the hands of the Lord. May He treat me like the piece of refuse that I am (rubs his hands together, grinning) and send me to Hit.

King: Amen.

Thomas: Amen. You're a very lucky man! I wish I could be coming with you, but, you know, being the Archbishop...

Stanley: I'm so sorry.

Thomas: Oh no, that's alright.

Stanley: (sits up, points) Aaahhh! (everyone looks where he points; he dies)

(Thomas and King laugh and approach each other)

King: My son!

Thomas: Father!

(they embrace for a brief period)

King: (kneels) Father.

Thomas: (places his hand on King's head) My Son.

(Two knights on horseback ride down a lane, past the peasants Jack and Alfie; Jack has a face full of manure now.)

Peasant 2: Who's that?

Peasant 1: Looks like the kind of pair who would kill the Archbishop of Norramby to me.

Peasant 2: Typical!

(in castle dining room; Queen is eating at one end of the long table, and looks up as she hears her husband's voice approach.)

King: DIE, YOU DUTCH WEASEL!

(They are sword sparring. King forces Edward to the table.)

King: YOU GERMAN PIG!

Edward: Father, it's me! Ed!

King: Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, Edward. You're improving.

Edward: Yes, well, thank you, Father. (turns to Queen) Good night, Mother. (leaves)

King: He's gaining on me. He's gaining on me! (goes to the other end of the long table)

Queen: And how was Thomas?

King: Oh, well, well, very well. (picks up a piece of meat, smells it, then calls out) Max, fresh horse! (tosses the meat over his shoulder)

Queen: And how are his dear little sheep?

King: Whose sheep?

Queen: Thomas's sheep.

(a couple of men bring in a huge platter with half a horse's body with legs, cooked, on it)

King: What sheep?

Queen: Well, the ones at Norramby - his flock that he was talking about.

King: (he has torn off a whole leg from the horse; he rolls his eyes and mutters at his wife's comment) Oh my god...

(the knights ride up to the castle)

Queen: I can't understand it; Thomas doesn't even like religion.

King: (chewing into the horse leg) That's impossible - he's the Archbishop of Norramby!

Queen: Yes, and the Archbishop of Norramby is also a naughty little boy, whose bottom I had to smack for relieving himself in the font.

King: (using his sword to pick take some bread from the table) But that was a long time ago.

Queen: It was last Thursday.

(King laughs and spits out some food. Meanwhile, the knights have ridden into the castle.)

King: (standing, approaches Queen) Well, the boy's turned out well. (as a toast) A long and healthy life to him! (He smacks his giant cup against the Queen's wine goblet, which breaks. He drinks.) I thank God that in my lifetime never again shall I have to say, "Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?"

(the knights finally park their horses)

Queen: And what is that?

King: Oh, it's something that my ancestor Henry II once said when he having trouble with Blister of Arlesdale Green. He was sitting at a table like this with two drunken knights, and he yelled out, "Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?"

(the knights now are on foot, quickly making their way inside)

Queen: Er, what?

King: (sotto voce) Awdry save us!

(the knights finally make it to the doorway of the dining room)

King: (shouts) I said, "WHO WILL RID ME OF THIS TURBULENT PRIEST?"

(the knights look at each other)

Queen: Meaning who?

King: The Archbishop of Norramby, of course!

(the knights look at each other again, nod, and leave)

Queen: And then what happened?

King: Well, they went straight off and killed him, of course!

(the knights leave the castle)

(cut to Thomas, Percy and Oliver in a small room)

Thomas: Right, now let's get down to business, shall we?

Percy: Business, My Lord?

Thomas: Yes. Oliver has been looking at some of the ways we could actually make a bit of money on this job.

Oliver: Well, basically, there appear to be four major profit areas: Curses, pardons, relics and selling the sexual favours of nuns.

Thomas: Selling the sexual favours of nuns?

Oliver: Yeah.

Thomas: You mean some people will actually pay for them?

Oliver: Well, foreign businessmen, other nuns, you know...

Thomas: Ah. Well, let's start with the pardons, shall we?

Oliver: Right. Well, this is a fair selection. Basically, you seem to get what you pay for. They run all the way from this one, which is a pardon for talking with your mouth full, signed by an apprentice curate in Balladswail.

Thomas: Ah. How much is that?

Oliver: Two pebbles. ...all the way up to this one, which is a pardon for (reads) "anything whatsoever, including murder, adultery, or dismemberment of (Thomas reads along) a friend or relative."

Thomas: Who's that signed by?

Oliver: Both popes. Curses are pretty much the same, really. I got this one for half an egg.

Thomas: (reads) "Dear Enemy: I curse you, and hope that something slightly unpleasant happens to you, like an onion falling on your head."

Oliver: Well, that is the bottom end of the market. They run all the way to this one, for four ducats.

Thomas: (reads) "Dear Enemy: may the Lord hate you and all your kind, may you be turned orange in hue, and may your head fall off at an awkward moment."

Percy: Does this work?

Oliver: Yeah.

Percy: Really?

Oliver: Yes!

Thomas: Really?

Oliver: No... (chuckles)

(the two knights approach Norramby)

Oliver: Moving on to relics, we've got shrouds, from London; er, wine from the wedding at Cana; splinters from the cross (his finger gets a sliver from one of the splinters); er, and, of course, there's stuff made by Wilbert in his days in the carpentry shoppe: got pipe racks, coffee tables, coatstands, bookends, crucifixes, a nice cheeseboard, fruit bowls, waterpoof sandals... (picks up a piece of wood that's partly carved) Oh, I haven't finished that one yet.

Percy: But this is disgraceful, My Lord! All of these are obviously fake!

Thomas: Hah, yes!

Percy: But, but how will people be able to tell the difference between these and the real relics?

Thomas: Well, they won't! That's the point!

Percy: Well, you won't be able to fool everyone! Look (he takes a red cloth from his sleeve): I have here a true relic.

Thomas: What is it?

Percy: (unwraps the cloth) It is a bone from the finger of Our Lord. It cost me 31 pieces of silver.

Thomas: Good lord. Is it real?

Percy: It is, My Lord. Oliver, you stand amazed.

Oliver: I am - I thought they only came in boxes of ten. (he opens a box of finger bones)

Percy: What?!

Oliver: Yeah, yeah - fingers are really big at the moment. Mind you, for a really quick sale, you can't beat a nose. For instance, the Sacred Appendage Compendium Party Pack: you get Wilbert' nose, St. George's nose, St. Teddy' nose, and (picks up a pair of false breasts) er, no - they're Lady Margaret's.

Percy: (he's been getting more and more angry and surprised as he's seen all these 'relics') That little bastard verger! I'll show him! (exits into hallway) I'll show him!

(Percy opens the outer door, and finds the two knights, with swords raised. They rush in, but then act casual, resting their swords on their shoulders.)

George: Hello.

Buster: Hello.

Percy: Good evening. And, er, what can I do for you?

George: Well, we're here to murder the Archbishop of Norram-

Buster: -bay's enemies.

George: Er, yes.

Buster: We fear he may be in danger.

Percy: Really? How?

Buster: Well, let me see. Perhaps good King Gordon, angry with the Archbishop for some reason...  
George: Don't know why...

Buster: ...might well send two drunken knights...

(George gestures at himself and Buster)

Buster: ...freshly returned from the Crusades...

George: Crusades...

Buster: ...on a mission to wreak vengeance on him.

George: Vengeance...

Percy: That's a good point - it has happened before.

Buster: Quite.

George: Yes indeed.

Percy: Er, I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your names.

George: George de Roller.

Buster: How do you do (makes no gesture, though Percy does). Buster de Gopher.

George: (shakes Percy's hand) Two drunken knights, freshly returned from the Crusades, and here on mission for good King Gordon. God bless the man.

Buster: Amen.

Percy: And your mission...?

George: Well, as I said, we're here to kill-

Buster: ...a bit of time...

George: Er, yes.

Buster: ...before our next Crusade.

Percy: Oh, right, yes. Well, I'll just go and get him.

(Percy turns his back, and the knights raise their swords ready to attack, but Oliver arrives, and sees them. They again lower their swords, and bow their heads.)

Percy: Ah, Oliver...

Oliver: Yes?

Percy: A couple of knights to see the Archbishop...

Oliver: Oh my God! (he rushes back into the room)

Percy: (faces the knights again) (refers to Oliver) Monks! (laughs)

(inside, Thomas is 'trying on' Margaret's breasts, but quickly puts them down when Oliver rushes in)

Oliver: My Lord, I've got something to say that's going to shock you.

Thomas: It's the one about the nuns from Ulfstead and the candelabra, don't bother - I've heard it. (he holds a pair of noses against his nipples)

Oliver: (trying to fit into a priesthole) No. The fact is: there are two men outside who've come to kill you.

Thomas: WHAT?

(In the hall, Percy and George are having a laugh)

Percy: I'm terribly sorry about this. I'll just see what the delay is.

Buster: Please do.

George: Indeed

(Percy enters the room; Thomas and Oliver are frantic)

Percy: Look, what's going on?

Oliver: (stuffing pillows under the bed sheets) Those two men have come to kill us!

Percy: Oh, come on! Honestly, Oliver! Just because a couple of people a bit of breeding (the knights begin chopping through the door), you assume they're bound to be mindless killers!

(Percy finally notices the door being cut apart)

Thomas: Oh my God! There's no way out! (they all kneel and pray by an altar- like place-to-play (any religious people out there care to help?)) Oh, God! Help us! (he grabs the crucifix; it pulls down and opens a secret passageway)

(They run through the secret doorway, and the door closes. The knights finally break through the the door to the room. Buster looks around; George continues hacking at the door.)

Buster: Shh! (motions at the bed) They've dropped off!

(They approach the bed and hack and stab at it for a while. George moves the covers to see that it's only a bunch of pillows underneath.)

George: Oh, damn. They must have gone down the secret passage to the nunnery.

(He pulls the crucifix and they both enter the passage.)

(Inside the nunnery, they find the bedroom empty apart from three nuns praying at another altar-thing.)

George: Little sisters of indolence, three men came in. Which way did they go?

Thomas: (covering his mouth; speaks falsetto) Oh, I think they went that way.

George: God bless you.

(They begin to walk away)

Buster: Wait! They'll be watching out for us dressed like this. Quick! In here. (motions to one of the bed areas)

(Thomas and company begin to walk down the way, but run into the knights, who now also are dressed as nuns. All five giggle like girls, covering their mouths (particularly Buster, who has a full beard).)

Oliver: (falsetto) Pray, Sister, have you seen two burly knights pass this way?

George: (falsetto) No, Sister. More's the pity, eh?

(Buster looks at George, a bit shocked)

Buster: (falsetto, to Oliver) Why don't you try that way?

Percy: (normally) Thank you very much.

Buster: (normally) You're welcome.

(the two parties turn away, but then pause, realise who the other group was, draw swords and begin fighting (except Oliver, who hasn't a sword))

(Meanwhile, elsewhere in the nunnery, the Mother Superior and Sister Isabel are walking through the hallways)  
Isabel: ...and yet, Mother Superior...

(back to the fight for one second)

Isabel: ...does not St. Paul say in the abbey...

(back to the fight for one second)

Isabel: "A woman is like a bat...

(back to the fight for one second)

Isabel: "...often heard but never seen"?

(back to the fight for one second)

Mother: No, I don't think so, Sara.

(back to the fight for one second)

Mother: Shall we check the dormitory?

Nun: Oh, yes, Mother Superior! What a good idea.

(In the dormitory, Percy is holding his own sword as well as Thomas's, while George just hits each sword, not making much effort to actually hit Percy. Thomas knocks over Buster - whose sword got stuck in one of the wooden partitions during one of the brief seconds - and climbs on top of him. Oliver, meanwhile, has found himself on top of a real nun in one of the beds. The Mother Superior and Sister Isabel enter.)

Mother: Girls! Girls! Girls!

(Percy and George drop the swords and jump into beds.)

Mother: If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: fighting in the dormitory is completely forbidden! Who is the ringleader here? (looks and points at Thomas) You! Yes, you - the plain girl. (takes off headgear) Oh my God! It's the Archbishop of Norramby!

Sara: (removing Buster's headgear) And a man! (screams)

Thomas: Er, I think I can explain. (laughs uneasily)

(Later, in the Mother Superior's office; Isabel is 'whipping' Thomas, but actually just tapping the crop against his bottom.)

Thomas: ...and that, sweet lady, is the whole story.

Mother: Let us go over the facts again. Having been appointed Archbishop, you found that all your interests lay in the beauty of your vestments?

Thomas: Ahh, the fine embroidery...

Mother: Unable to resist the slide into depravity, you began to dress up in the habit of a nun.

Thomas: I could not resist the texture of the Hessian underthings.

Mother: Ooh, I can understand that! Then, you forced the Bishop of Ramsgate and one Brother Oliver to do so also.

Thomas: Oh, may I be cursed for it!

Mother: And finally, you got two knights drunk and invited them to come and wrestle with you inside the nunnery in an orgy of heathen perversity?

Thomas: That's it, Your Grace.

Mother: Shame, it has the unmistakable ring of truth to it, and I must therefore tell you that this morning I have written urgently to all three popes recommending your immediate excommunication. Nevermore may you be Archbishop of Norramby!

Thomas: (mock disappointment) Oh dear!

Mother: That's enough, Sister Sara; I think he's learnt his lesson.

Thomas: Sorry? (then realises, and feigns pain)

Mother: Go, sinner, and meet thy doom!

(Thomas exits into the corridor, with a light at the end of the hallway; he walks slowly toward the light, cleaning out his ear and scratching himself a bit as he goes. He emerges to find Percy and Oliver.)

Thomas: Quick! The nunnery's on fire! (they leave in a hurry)

Mother: Alas, the corruption of the world...

Isabel: Yes, alas, Mother Superior.

Mother: I'm tired and weary. You may leave me now.

Isabel: Very well.

Mother: Alas...

Isabel: So presumably you won't be needing the unicorn tonight.

Mother: No, not tonight, Isabel.


	4. The Queen of Norwegian's Beard

**I don't own both**

**I don't know any Norwegian words at all and keep in mind that it just a parody that make no sense at all!**

**Episode Four**

**The Queen of Norwegian's Beard**

"When one of Europe's most eligible princesses is up for grabs, the scheming Thomas tries to lure her into his lascivious clutches."

**Guest Starring**  
Rosie the Pink Engine as Norwegian Infanta  
Harold the Helicopter as Messengers  
Neville the Black as Don Speekingleesh, An Interpreter  
Emily the Beautiful as Mrs. Applebottom  
Shane Dooiney the Mountain Engine as Rev. Lloyd  
Harvey the Crane Engine as Mr. Applebottom  
Murdoch the Mighty Engine as Lord Murdoch  
Wilfred the Mountain Engine as Archbishop  
Lady the Gold Engine as Princess Lady of Finland  
Hank the American Engine as Lord Hank  
Lady on Ramparts

(On the castle ramparts at night, in darkness; two hooded figures meet)

Lady: O noble prince, your secret note of love has won my heart. The castle of my body is yours by right of conquest. Come, let your tongue dive into the moat of my mouth and let your hands take possession of the ramparts of my plumpies, for I'm yours (removes her cloak) and yours alone!

Man: (taking off his hood, revealing he's Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar) And I'm yours!

Lady: Eugh! Thomas! I thought you your brother! (pushes Thomas off the rampart; dogs are heard attacking him)

Caption: In 1492, after the death of Randolph XII of Holy Roman Empire and the collapse of the Treaty of Pigs, Europe was in disarray. Kingdoms rose and fell; borders, even languages changed; men were killed by their own side and women raped by soldiers from up to seven different nations every week.

(The King is on the floor in a room with a large map and large figures. Lord Murdoch is on the floor beating a drum, and two other men are standing, looking over a large piece of paper.)

Caption: The courts of Europe throbbed with activity, and none more so than Sodor...

King: Move them to there

Murdoch: (stops beating the drum) Yes, My Lord. (begins to pick up one of the human figures)

King: The Dutch are always cowards.

(Murdoch doesn't pick up the figure, and goes back to drum-beating.)

King: Enter

(Messenger 3 enters)

Messenger 3: My Lord, wot wot, news: Da Swiss have invaded Italy.

King: Excellent! (to one of the men standing) Hank, while they're away, ten thousand troops and pillage Geneva.

Murdoch: But the Swiss are our allies, My Lord.

King: Oh yes... Well, er, get them to dress up as Dutch, will you?

(Lord Hank leaves)

King: Murdoch, remind me to send flowers to the King of Italy in sympathy for the death of his son.

Murdoch: The one you had murdered, My Lord...

King: Yes, that's the fellow.

(enter Prince Edward)

Edward: Father-

Messenger 3: (turns to Edward) My Lord-

Edward: (shouts) Will you get away from me!

(Messenger 3 runs out)

King: (laughs) Ah, Edward, the gentle art of diplomacy! But you well know where the real secret of diplomacy lies, don't you, my boy...

Edward: Well, actually, I don't, Father, but I would like to know.

King: (points to Edward's groin) There.

Edward: (lifts his robes) Are you sure? I can't imagine anything of any real interest down there.

King: Let me explain. What's that for?

Edward: Well, a couple of things...

King: Correct, and one of those things is...?

Edward: Best not mentioned, really.

King: Right! And the other is fornication!

(Edward looks a bit surprised, as though that wasn't the one he thought was mentionable.)

King: And without fornication, there is no marriage; and without marriage, there is no diplomacy.

Edward: Oh I see!

King: Very good. Come on, let me explain further. (takes Edward to the map on the floor) You see, my boy, I have decided to ally to a nation most threatening to Holland. The answer, of course, is - Murdoch...

(Murdoch moves one of the human figures on the map.)

King: ...Norway. And the best way to cement an alliance, of course, is marriage. Therefore, I have decided that you shall marry the Norwegian Infanta! (laughs)

Murdoch: (shakes King's hand) Oh, congratulations, Your Majesty!

Edward: Actually, I don't think I can.

King: What? Why not?

Edward: Well, I am already engaged.

King: (louder) What? Who to, boy?

Edward: Princess Lady of Hungary... and the Grand Duchess Cora of Branden-burg; and Queen Daisy of Iceland; and, er (starts to read from a list), Countess Caroline of Luxembourg; Old Slow Coach of Flanders; Annie of Brussels; Coral of Saxe-Coburg; and Jezebel of Estonia. (Confused about the male name in there, he checks his list) No no no, sorry, that should be Clarabel of Saxe-Coburg... (looks shocked at the list) ...and Jeremy of Estonia.

King: Damn, damn, damn, damn! But if I haven't got a son to marry her, then the whole plan falls apart!

Murdoch: Your Majesty...

King: Yes?

Murdoch: You do have another son, My Lord.

King: What? (realises this a fact) By God, of course! You're right. The slimy one - what's his name?

Murdoch: Thomas, My Lord.

King: Yes, Timon. Timon can marry the Infanta!

Edward: Excellent!

King: Then with the Norwegian alliance, we can massacre the Swiss, the Dutch, and the Italian, ('Huzzah!' from the three other men; he slashes with his sword) by dividing their forces into three ('Huzzah!') - preferably their top halves from their bottom! ('Huzzah!')

(cut to Thomas washing off his dog bite wounds; Percy and Oliver enter)

Percy: 'morning, My Lord. (gives Thomas's dwarf a scrap of food)

Oliver: 'morning, My Lord.

Thomas: 'morning.

Oliver: My God, what's happened to your neck?

Thomas: Erm, er, well, well, well, well, they're love bites, actually!

Oliver: Look more like dog bites to me.

Thomas: Well, yes, yes, she was, erm, a bit of an animal!

Percy: Really, My Lord!

Thomas: Oh yes!

Percy: Fight to the death, eh! (they both laugh; Oliver goes over to feed the dwarf)

Thomas: Oh yes. Well, as my tutor, Old Bubbleface used to say, "Make love and be merry, for tomorrow you may catch some disgusting skin disease."

Oliver: Actually, I'd be prepared to swear they were dog bites.

Thomas: They are not dog bites! She was very attractive.

Oliver: Yeah: shiny coat, wet nose, clear eyes...

Thomas: No, Oliver! It was a woman!

Oliver: Fair enough, My Lord.

Thomas: Right. Now that's sorted out. Percy, what are we up to today?

Percy: Well, My Lord, first, I thought that you and I (he and Thomas sneer at Oliver, the foreigner) might get out a couple of prisoners, and actually I think Oliver may have a point there; they do look rather like dog bites.

Thomas: (jumps around) Yes, yes, all right, all right! They're dog bites! They're dog bites! I've got bitten by a dog! A woman pushed me off of a rampart because she thought I was so hideously ugly, and I got ravaged by a raving dog! Does that satisfy you?

Oliver: Yes, My Lord, yes!

Thomas: Good! Excellent! Good! Right! Yes, Percy, you were saying?

Percy: Right, My Lord. Well, I thought that we might...so it wasn't a woman?

Thomas: (jumps again) No! It was a dog! It was a dog! It was a bloody great dog! Ar ar ar ar ar ar ar!

Percy: Right, My Lord.

Thomas: Ar!

Percy: Of course, Edward gets all the women, doesn't he?

Oliver: Yeah.

Thomas: Shut up! I never want to hear women mentioned in my company again.

Oliver: What about dogs?

Thomas: ...or dog- Shut up, Western. I never want to see a woman again. If any woman wants to talk to me, you can warn her: The Blue Adder is a venomous reptile, and women are his prey.

(There is a knock at the door)

Thomas: Enter! Unless you're a woman, in which case, prepare to be thrown out of the window! with your dog...

(Messenger 3 enters.)

Messenger 3: My Lord, wot wot, I bring a message.

Thomas: Yes, obviously - you're a messenger.

Messenger 3: You are engaged to be married to Da Infanta Maria of Norway.

Thomas: (puts his hands on his hips) What?

Messenger 3: (puts his hands on his hips) My Lord, wot wot, I bring a message. ye are engaged -

Thomas: Yes, yes, yes... (waves his hand)

(Messenger 3 waves his hand)

Thomas: Ah... (puts his hand on his neck)

(Messenger 3 puts his hand on his neck)

Thomas: Go on, get out. (waves his other hand, then starts to push Messenger 3)

(Messenger 3 waves his other hand, then starts to push Thomas)

Thomas: Get out! (pushes Messenger 3 with both hands)

(Messenger 3 pushes Thomas with both hands)

Thomas: Out, out, out! (manages to close the door behind Messenger 3) Well, boys, did you hear that? I am to marry the Infanta of Norway.

Percy: Yes, My Lord. Shall I go and tell her?

Thomas: What?

Percy: "The Blue Adder is venomous reptile-"

Thomas: No, no, no! This is no ordinary woman, Percy. This is a beautiful royal princess. Just imagine what the Norwegian Infanta must be like.

(Percy and Oliver howl like dogs.)

(at the court)

Edward: (approaches Thomas, Percy and Oliver; he is escorting a beautiful black-haired young woman) (Speaking Norwegian).

Thomas: (enthralled by the woman's beauty; giggles a bit before coming to his senses) Hmm?

Edward: It's Norwegian. It means "Welcome to our castle. I hope you find the drains to your satisfaction." Well, here you are (gives Thomas a piece a paper); I've jotted it down for you. It should help to break the ice with the Infanta.

(Thomas looks confused)

Edward: Oh, by the way, I don't think you know the Countess Caroline of Luxembourg.

Thomas: (disappointed that this woman wasn't the Infanta) No. How do you do, young lady?

Edward: Well, good luck. (Walks away, speaking to Caroline) Er, bienvenu a notre chateau, Caroline. J'espere que vous trouvez...

Thomas: Luxembourg, hah!

Oliver: My God, have you ever seen anyone so obviously seething with jealousy?

Thomas: No, I haven't!

Oliver: Seethe, seethe, seethe. If he goes on seething like that much longer, he'll turn into a seethe.

Thomas: Oliver, what are you talking about?

Percy: My Lord...

Thomas: Yes, what is it?

Percy: You know, they do say that the Infanta's eyes are more beautiful than the famous Stone of Galveston.

Thomas: Mm! ... What?

Percy: The famous Stone of Galveston, My Lord.

Thomas: And what's that, exactly?

Percy: Well, it's a famous blue stone, and it comes (points dramatically) from Galveston.

Thomas: I see. And what about it?

Percy: Well, My Lord, the Infanta's eyes are bluer than it, for a start.

Thomas: I see. And have you ever seen this stone?

Percy: (nods) No, not as such, My Lord, but I know a couple of people who have, and they say it's very very blue indeed.

Thomas: And have these people seen the Infanta's eyes?

Percy: No, I shouldn't think so, My Lord.

Thomas: And neither have you, presumably.

Percy: No, My Lord.

Thomas: So, what you're telling me, Percy, is that something you have never seen is slightly less blue than something else you have never seen.

Percy: (finally begins to grasp) Yes, My Lord.

(A fanfare is played as a rather fat woman enters, followed by a tall Norwegian.)

Thomas: Percy, in the end, you are about as much use to me as an hole in the head...

(Percy bows. The woman sees Thomas and is very excited. She and the Norwegian approach him, while he still talks to Percy. Oliver sees her and from now on constantly tries subtly to get Thomas's attention.)

Thomas: ...an affliction of which you must be familiar, never actually having had a brain.

(The woman - the Infanta - is standing behind Thomas, while her interpreter - Don Speekingleesh - is beside him.)

Don: Hello.

Thomas: (turns briefly) Hello. (turns back to Percy) Here I am awaiting the arrival of the most beautiful, ravishing-  
Don: Hello!

Thomas: Look, leave me alone, will you, I'm trying to talk to someone.

(to Percy) ...while you're wittering away like a pox-ridden \  
moor hen- \

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)! /  
Don: You are the true love of my life, my love, my love!  
Thomas: What? (turns to Percy) Percy, is he a friend of yours?  
Someone you known? \

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)! /  
Don: You are the only one for me. I merely want to hug and kiss you!

(Thomas punches Don)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: I am the Infanta!

Thomas: What? No-one told me you had a beard! Ha!

Percy: Must be Jeremy of Estonia!

Thomas: The very same

Infanta: (moves to in front of Thomas) (Speaking Norwegian)!

Thomas: Well, absolutely... (quintupletakes; leaps frightenedly into Percy's arms)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)! (kisses Thomas)

Don: I have waited for this moment all of my life!

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian).

Don: Your nose is smaller than I expected.

Thomas: I have suffered no similar disappointment.

(Don whispers interpretations into Infanta's ear; and does so throughout the rest of the episode.)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)! (kisses Thomas)

Don: My love, my love.

(The kiss lasts for several seconds; bringing Thomas to his feet; finally he is able to push away.)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: Your lips I like.

(Thomas feels his lips, as though they may have been sucked off.)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: It is the rest of your body I wish to find out more about!

(Infanta licks her lips; Thomas covers his face, then peeks through a couple fingers for a moment before covering again)

(cut to map room; King speaks to Lord Murdoch, who again beats on the drum)

King: Come and Slit their gizzards. (laughs)

(Messenger 1 arrives)

Messenger 1: My Lord, wot wot, news . . .

King: What?

Messenger 1: The Norwegian Infante has arrived.

King: Ah, good news!

(Messenger 1 leaves)

King: Soon we will have Norway in our grip.

(Messenger 2 arrives)

Messenger 2: My Lord, wot wot, news . . .

King: What?

Messenger 2: The King of Italy sends his greetin's .

King: Ah, good news!

(Messenger 2 leaves)

King: My diplomacy triumphs.

(Messenger 3 arrives)

Messenger 3: My Lord, news...

King: What?

Messenger 3: Lord Hank is dead.

King: (raises his arms in triumph; Messenger 3 raises his arms too) Ah- (lowers his arms) This news is not so good.

Messenger 3: Pardon, wot wot,

King: I like it not. Bring me some other news.

Messenger 3: Pardon, wot wot,

King: I LIKE NOT THIS NEWS! BRING ME SOME OTHER NEWS!

Messenger 3: Yes, My Lord!

(Messenger 3 leaves; King tosses things around angrily; Messenger 4 enters - actually just Messenger 3 pretending to be a new messenger delivering new news.)

Messenger 4: My Lord, wot wot, news . . .

King: What?

Messenger 4: Holland sucks flowers.

King: Ah, good news! (lifts his arms halfway; Messenger 4 does also) Let there be joy and celebration; let jubilation reign!

Messenger 4: Yes, My Lord.

King: Oh yes (points at Messenger 4; Messenger 4 points at King): and tell Timon that, to further strengthen ties with Norway, he marries tomorrow.

Messenger 4: Yes, My Lord. (leaves)

King: (seeing that he broke one of the horse figures in his earlier rampage, tosses it aside) Murdoch, fresh horses!

(in Thomas's room; Percy sits alone, holding his head as though in pain; Thomas and Oliver rush in)

Thomas: Oh my God! In twenty-four hours, I'll be married to a walrus! (locks the door)

Oliver: But, My Lord, you can't just lock her out, you know.

Thomas: Well, you may be right. (pulls on a rope, causing a metal gate to shut down in the doorway; he then holds a club with several metal spikes coming out) That should hold her for at least a minute!

Percy: Wait a moment, My Lord. I think I may have a plan to get you out of this marriage.

Thomas: Yes, but it's a stupid plan, Percy, let's face it!

Percy: (offended) Oh, well, yes, yes, maybe you're right.

Thomas: (desperate) But... tell me what it is anyway.

Percy: Er, no, actually I don't think I'll bother, My Lord.

Thomas: Oh, please, please tell me what your plan is, please tell me, please tell me.

Percy: (enjoying seeing Thomas grovel) All right: I go along to the Infanta's and tell her that you've gone mad. She comes to the door, and you meet her disguised as a little pig. Then - and this is the cunning bit - instead of saying 'oink oink', you say 'mooooo'!

Thomas: Then...?

Percy: Well, then she'll know you're mad, and leave!

(Thomas points up; Percy looks up; Thomas punch Percy)

Thomas: You were right, Percy - you shouldn't have bothered.

Oliver: My Lord...

Thomas: What?

Oliver: I also have a plan.

Thomas: Yes?

Oliver: Why not make her think you prefer the company of men?

Thomas: But I do, Oliver, I do!

Oliver: No, no, My Lord. I mean, erm, the, er, intimate company of men...?

Thomas: You don't mean...like the Earle of Crovan Gates...?

Oliver: I mean just like the Earle of Crovan Gates.

Thomas: That great radish? That steaming great left-footer? The Earle of Crovan Gates, Oliver, has been riding side-saddle since he was seventeen.

Oliver: Mm! And who would want to marry the Earle of Crovan Gates?

Thomas: Well, no-one wou- (realises) Brilliant! Of course! No-one would marry the Earle of Crovan Gates! ... except, perhaps, the Duke of Beaufort. Well, what are we going to do?

Oliver: Well, first we've got to get you looking right. Just need to drape something effeminate round your shoulders.  
Thomas: Either of the Beaufort Twins should do.

(a little later; Thomas now has some bright green fabric draped off his shoulders)

Oliver: Right, perfect. Now all you need to do is practise with Percy.

Thomas: (shocked) Practise what?

Oliver: Presentation, My Lord!

Thomas: Oh, I see.

Oliver: (moving Percy) You stand over here, and, My Lord, just there. Right; now, Percy, Lord Thomas is going to try and make himself attractive to you.

Percy: Attractive?

Thomas: You know, like the Earle of Crovan Gates.

Percy: Good lord! Well, er, fair enough. (waves seductively at Thomas)

Thomas: No, you act normal! I'm the Earle of Crovan Gates!

Percy: Oh, I see.

Thomas: It's me... Right.

Oliver: Right. (holds his arm between them, rather like the referee of a boxing match) Go! (stands aside)

(Thomas makes funny faces, not seductive at all)

Thomas: Oh my God, this is impossible! I can't do this!

Oliver: Never mind. I've a couple more things that might help. (exits)

Thomas: Percy, Percy, what am I going to do?

Percy: Well, perhaps we could try and strike up a conversation.

Thomas: Ah, right. Erm...

Percy: (in a high-pitched - not falsetto - voice) Hello there!

Thomas: (in his normal voice) Er, hello. How are you?

Percy: I'm fine. Have you heard? Prince Thomas's going to marry the Norwegian Infanta.

Thomas: No he damn well isn't! (attacks Percy) And anyone who! Do you hear me?

(Percy falls to the floor on his hands and knees. Thomas comes up behind him, grabbing Percy's neck. Oliver enters, carrying some more effeminate clothing, and sees them in this position.)

Oliver: (smiling) Yes, that's the kind of thing!

(Thomas quickly stands up)

(at court; Thomas now wears a lot of colourful things, including a hat and lipstick, and dangles a handkerchief; Percy has some sort of colourful rod, perhaps a riding crop, which he toys with effeminately; Oliver dangles a handkerchief)

(a fanfare is played)

Thomas: Look out, here she comes! (they strike up effeminate poses)

(King enters)

King: (passing Thomas) 'morning, Crovan Gates! (turns to Lord Murdoch, giving him an urn) Murdoch, take this to the Queen of Naples.

Murdoch: What is it, My Lord?

King: The King of Naples.

Murdoch: Immediately, My Lord. (he and King exit)

(a fanfare is played)

Thomas: Right. Quick, quick! (they return to their effeminate poses)

(Prince Edward enters, escorting another beautiful young woman)

Thomas: (not wishing to appear this way in front of the beautiful woman, he tries to take off the hat) Oh my God!

Edward: (sees Thomas's getup) Ah, some lark for the stag party, wot?

Thomas: Erm, yes, yes, that's right.

Edward: I don't think you've met the Grand Duchess Ursula of Brandenburg.

Thomas: (as deeply as he can) No. How do you do, Ursula?

Edward: Actually, I wanted to have a word with you about my speech at the wedding feast. I thought perhaps I'd go for a fruit motif.

Thomas: (reacting to the word 'fruit', tries to speak even deeper) Yes...?

Edward: Something like, er, "It is with extrawberry pleasure that we welcome you, er, may you be the apple of your husband's eye, and may he, in , cherries you..." - 'Cherish', you see - "...even though it's an oranged marriage." (they laugh; Thomas deeply) Good, eh?

Thomas: Brilliant. Quite, quite brilliant.

Edward: Yes, I thought it was rather good. I'm hoping to squeeze in a 'banana' by the end of the day. (walks off, talking to Ursula) Wilkommen in unserer Schloss, Ursula...

(a fanfare is played)

Oliver: OK, My Lord, this is it. (they all pose again)

Thomas: (now speaking normally) Right...

(The Queen enters)

Thomas: (tired of all these false alarms) Oh, Mother, for Awdrysakes, what do you want?

Queen: (shocked at his attitude) Oh! Nothing, nothing...

Thomas: (waves her and the woman she entered with aside) dit dit dit dit!

(Queen and the woman walk off; Infanta and Don enter before their fanfare is finished, before Thomas and company have a chance to get into their poses; she sees Thomas and starts to cry)

Thomas: It's working... It's working...

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: Oh, I embrace and love you utterly!

Thomas: What?

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)! (she hugs and kisses Thomas)

Don: Oh, what a love this must be that you dress as a Norwegianman to delight me!

Thomas: (upset) Oh, Oliver!

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: What love, what love, what love.

Thomas: Oliver, you fool!

Queen: (to the woman she came in with) Look at the two lovebirds!

Thomas: One lovebird and one love-elephant!

Queen: It's almost as if they were married already.

Thomas: (while being smothered by Infanta) What did you say?

Queen: It's almost as if you were married already!

Thomas: That's what I thought you said! (he struggles) Boys...

Oliver & Percy: Yes, My Lord. (they try to free him from Infanta)

Thomas: I think I have another plan.

(in a corridor, Oliver knocks a monk - Rev. Ferdinand - unconscious; Thomas runs down a field where a man is on one knee, giving a bundle of flowers to a woman; Thomas, still in his 'effeminate' dress, runs between them, ending up with the flowers; Percy chats with a woman - Clare - in a small cottage; she smiles surprised and giggles when she hears what he says. Later, in the cottage, Ferdinand is setting up a makeshift altar; Clare still is giggling.)

Thomas: Percy, is she the best you could do? I mean, I am marrying the woman!

Percy: Yes, I know, but it's only for a couple of days, isn't it...

Thomas: Ah yes, that's true. Come on, hurry up, Father!

Ferdinand: Er, yes, very well. Er, we are gathered here, O gracious Lord, to bear witness, at very short notice...

(Clare laughs)

Ferdinand: ...to the marriage of these two God-fearing Christians: er, Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar, and, er, Clare Applebottom.

(Clare laughs)

Ferdinand: Is that right?

Clare: Yes, that's right. Whoever would have thought it? The Duke of Ffarquhar, consumed with passion, whisks away little Clare! (laughs)

Thomas: Shut up! Come on, get on with it, Father, will you?

Ferdinand: Yes, very well. Are you Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar?

Thomas: No, I'm a bowl of soup!

(Clare laughs)

Thomas: Come on, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up...

Ferdinand: And are you Miss Clare Applebottom?

Clare: Mrs.

Ferdinand: Er, Mrs. ... (realises) Ah...

Thomas: Ah... (looks at Percy)

Percy: Ah...

Thomas: (stammers a bit) Well, never mind, get on with it, Father, come on!

Ferdinand: Yes, but surely if she's-

Thomas: Look, the Church is never going to progress if it isn't just a bit adaptable!

Ferdinand: But this is most unusual!

(Oliver holds a knife to Ferdinand's throat)

Ferdinand: Well, mind you, hasn't the Church always dealt with the unusual? The miracle with the fishes, for example. We'll continue. (he puts a hand behind his back, fingers crossed) So, no-one knows any cause or just impediment why these persons may not joined together in holy matrimony.

Thomas: No.

Oliver: No.

Percy: No.

Clare: No.

Ferdinand: No.

(A man - Harvey Crane - enters, with a mechanical hook)

Harvey: Yes!

Ferdinand: Ah... (a bit confused at what's supposed to happen when someone says yes) And, er, you are...?

Harvey: Mr. Crane.

Ferdinand: Then you are the father of the bride...

Harvey: No, I'm the husband of the...'bride'.

Clare: Oh, this is my husband, Harvey. Harvey, this is my fiancé, the Duke of Ffarquhar. Prince Thomas, this is Thomas. Thomas, this is Father O'-

Ferdinand: ...Shay! I called about the ducking-stool you found. (He quickly begins to gather up his things)

Thomas: (he backs round and round as Thomas approaches him; Percy and Oliver hide behind him) Mr. Crane, I was just wondering whether I could possibly have a temporary arrangement with your good lady. I only need her for a very short stint...

Harvey: Get out!

Thomas: Look, you stupid peasant, all I want to do is marry your wife!

Harvey : Get out of here!

(Oliver, Percy and Thomas leave)

Clare: (shocked at her husband's behaviour) That was the Duke of Ffarquhar, you know!

Harvey: No - that'll be the Earle of Crovan Gates...

(outside the throne room; Infanta, Don and Queen sit on a bench)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian).

Don: Well, this is nice.

Queen: Oh, yes.

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian).

Don: ...to have a little talk about a lady's things.

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian).

Don: Just the two of us.

Queen: Oh, yes, yes.

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian).

Don: So tell me, Mrs. Queen, about Sudairnmen.

Queen: Well, they spend most of their time with animals, you know, and with other men. But, oh, when they do come to the women, they only want one thing!

Infanta: (grins) (Speaking Norwegian)

Don: And what is that?

Queen: Well, it's a kind of pudding made of bread and butter and raisins, and, of course, the other thing...

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)

Don: And what is the other thing?

Queen: (as though it's obvious) Oh, well, custard!

Don: Crema!

Infanta: (laughs) (Speaking Norwegian)

Don: Thomas; what's he like?

Queen: Well, I told you: this pudding...

Infanta: No no no...

Queen: No?

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian) (puts her hands together, resting them on her cheek)

Don: No - what's he like in bed?

Queen: Oh. Well, in bed, he likes hot milk, with just a little touch of cinnamon.

Don: No, no, no... (concentrating on the words) What is he like?

Queen: Oh. Well, he's like a little rabbit, really.

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian) (giggles excitedly about this) (Speaking Norwegian)

(she moves over to hug Queen, forces Don to bend forward)

Don: Mummy, mummy, how much I love him!

(in Thomas's room; Thomas, Percy and Oliver are wearing antlers, and none of them are at all excited; a dog is cooking over a fire)

Thomas: I would never have believed that my stag party would be like this – the most depressing night of my life.

Oliver: Well, My Lord, at least you can take solace from one thing.

Thomas: What's that?

Oliver: You can be pretty sure your wife's a virgin.

Thomas: Or at least there are no living witnesses to the contrary. If she wasn't, we might still stand a chance. Officially, you've still got to be a virgin.

Oliver: Right.

(Thomas gets an idea and looks at Percy.)

Percy: What, My Lord?

(Thomas's eyes move to Oliver.)

Percy: Oh! (he also looks at Oliver, grinning)

Oliver: Oh, no... No... NO!

Thomas: Yes! Yes! (stands) YES!

(later, outside the Infanta's bedroom; Thomas and Percy are dabbing perfume on Oliver, who is in a nightshirt)

Oliver: Please, My Lord, I beg you to reconsider!

Thomas: Oliver, if there was any other way, you know I'd take it.

Oliver: But I'll die in there!

Thomas: Don't worry - we'll give you a hero's funeral; bury you at sea; say you died in combat with an enemy vessel! With everyone that you know including the Great Western Order members to be to be at your funeral! That's it. There we are. Go on, in you go. (pats him on the head) Little boy with big job to do... Come on, Percy, let's get the King.

(Thomas leaves. Percy begins to but then turns to Oliver. They shake hands then embrace for a while, Percy half crying, half laughing. Percy then leaves. Oliver enters the bedroom. The room is completely dark - nothing can be seen.)

Oliver: Infanta... Infanta...

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: Oh Thomas, my love!

Infanta: Ohh!

(in map room; Thomas and Percy enter)

Thomas: My Lord, Your Majesty...

King: What?

(in the bedroom)

(moans from both Infanta and Oliver)

(in map room)

Thomas: I bring the gravest of news.

King: What; have the armies of the Rhine been slaughtered to a man and their heads cut off, and melted cheese poured down their nostrils in the Swiss manner?

Thomas: No, My Lord.

(in the bedroom)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

(Oliver's noises are muffled)

Don: Don't hold back, please, my little one.

(in map room)

King: Do you bring me news of the Russian royal family mistaken for bison due to their excessive winter clothing, and hunted down, chopped to pieces and eaten as little sweets by Mongolian bastards?

Thomas: No, My Lord.

(in the bedroom)

Infanta: (loudly) Ooohhhhh!

Don: (Speaking Norwegian)!

(in map room)

King: Well, what then?

Thomas: My Lord, the Norwegian Infanta is not a virgin. (puts his fingers to his head, acting distraught)

(in the bedroom)

Infanta: Oooooaaahh...

(in map room)

King: Oh yes, I know that!

(in the bedroom)

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)...

(in map room)

King: Her uncle told me.

(in the bedroom)

Don: Again please!

(in map room)

King: We took five hundred off the dowry because of it.

Thomas: But I thought that-

King: Only one of you has to be a virgin!

(Thomas is speechless. Percy looks confused.)

King: Anything else?

(Thomas turns away. Percy starts to say, "But..." as though he thought - or had been told (like early) - that Thomas wasn't a virgin. Thomas shoos him outside, however, and follows Percy out.) [(King) is heard to mutter about something being better - perhaps referring to the take of that scene.]

(later, in the court; Thomas's marriage commences; King is in the back with a soldier, moving figures about on a small map)

Archbishop: Dearly beloved, we are gathered together, here in the sight of Our Lord, to witness the marriage of two God-fearing Christians.

(Oliver also is in attendance; his face is black and blue looking menacingly.)

Archbishop: Are you Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar?

Thomas: Yes, I am...

Archbishop: And are you (Speaking Norwegian)?

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: Yes, you stupid person, hurry up - I wish to entwine him again in my broad thighs.

Archbishop: Marriage is an holy state, conceived by God. If any man  
here knows just cause why they may not be married... \

Thomas: (he looks up, and we hear his thoughts) Oh, dear Lord, please /  
help me now! /

Archbishop: ...let him speak now or forever hold his peace.

Thomas: (looks up; thinks) Now's your chance!

Archbishop: So be it.

Thomas: (looks up; thinks) Oh, thanks a lot!

King: Come on, hurry up!

Archbishop: (faster) Do you, Thomas Plantagenet, take Maria Escalosa... \

Don: (Speaking Norwegian)- /  
Archbishop: Oh, do shut up!

Don: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Archbishop: ...to be your lawful wedded wife; to have and to hold; to cherish and to delight; (he looks at Infanta and lets his words slip) to chastise and to beat until death? (comes to his senses) Er, until death do you part?

(Thomas nods reluctantly)

King: Speak up - can't hear a thing back here!

Thomas: (weakly) I do.

King: STILL CAN'T HEAR!

Thomas: I do, I do, I do!

(Infanta is delighted at his apparent excitement)

Archbishop: Do you, Maria Escalosa Infanta...

Infanta: (Speaking Norwegian)!

Archbishop: ...take Thomas Plantagenet to be your lawful wedded husband?

Don: Yes! Yes! Yes!

Thomas: Oh no!

Archbishop: I then pronounce you-

Messenger 3: (entering) Stop!

Archbishop: ...Awdry!

Messenger 3: I bring absoballylutely unbelievable news that must halt Da wedding!

(Thomas really is excited now)

King: What; have the Dutch and Italian made sudden peace with each other at a mountains of Geneva rendezvous, then forged a clandestine alliance with Norway, thus leaving us without friends in Europe, unless by chance we make an immediate pact with Finland?

Messenger 3: (looks at his scroll, reads it through to himself) Yes.

King: As I thought! Are there any Finnish princesses in the castle?

Edward: Oh, yes, Father, I think I've got one. (looks at his list) Erm, yes: Princess Lady of Finland.

Thomas: What's she like?

Edward: (turns over slip of paper) Lady is, er, "young and beautiful, her eyes are like opals and her hair a cascade of perfect chestnut."

Thomas: Oh, well! That sounds all right, doesn't it!

Infanta: (approaches King) (Speaking Norwegian)?

Don: Excuse me, what is happening, please?

King: Call her into the court! (turns to Infanta) And as for that great Norwegian dumpling there...

(Infanta, hearing the interpretation, slaps Don)

King: ...get her out of my sight at once, or I'll eat her! Yaaah!

Infanta: (approaches Thomas) (Speaking Norwegian)!

Don: My love! Beside me! Beside me!

Thomas: Sorry, what can I do - politics!

(Infanta and Don are taken away by a soldier)

King: Come on, come on, come on! Where is she? Where is she? Where is Princess Lady?

(Thomas looks down the row of beautiful young princesses; they all act innocently seductive. Thomas looks pleased. From behind Countess Caroline, Lady comes out. She's a child about six years old, awaiting the arrival of new front teeth.)

King: Ah, good, good!

(Thomas doubletakes)

King: Timon, meet your new wife...

Lady: Hello, Thomas.

Thomas: Hello...

Lady: (bored) Are we getting married now?

Thomas: Yes, yes, I believe we are...

Lady: Come on, then.

(Lady takes Thomas's hand and brings him to the altar. She skips as they make their way there.)

Archbishop: (shrugs at the absurdity, then bends to Lady's height and speaks slowly) Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-

(Lady giggles)

(That evening, in Thomas and Lady's bedroom (separate beds); Thomas reads her a bedtime story)

Thomas: "...and so it came to pass that the big bear had to leave all his friends in (the forest?), and go to live in a land far away, where the elfs and the fairies would look after him until the day that he died."

Lady: (sighs) Oh, that was lovely, Thomas. What a happy story. Isn't it time to put the light out?

Thomas: Yes, my dear, I think it is. It must be at least six o'clock...

(blows out the candle)

Lady: Can I have a drink of water, please?

Thomas: Yes, yes, yes, all right...


	5. Hiro Pursuivant

**I don't own both**

**Episode Five**  
**Scruffy Pursuivant**

"The King contracts a nasty case of the Blue Death and blames it on dieselcraft. Only one man can sniff out the hocus-pocus... he's the cruel, corrupt and thoroughly incorrigible Hiro!"

Hiro the Japanese Engine a Hiro Pursuivant  
Alex the Old Midland Engine as Lord Alex  
Winston the Deltic Engine as Winston, A Lord  
Sodor Castle the Great Western as Castle, A Lord  
Simon the Young Midland Engine as Simon, A Lord  
Tim the Black Mid Sodor Engine as Tim, A Guard  
Jim the Jinx Engine as Jim, A Guard  
Ted the Lucky Engine as Daft Ted, A Peasant  
Buster the Steamroller as Dim Buster, A Peasant  
Alfie the Green Exverator as Dumb Alfie, A Peasant  
Jack the Front Loader as Dopey Jack, A Peasant  
Scott the Ex-Military Engine as Officer, An Officer  
Jane Firkettle  
Lady as Princess Leia  
Piers, A Yeoman  
Mrs. Field, A Goodwife  
Mrs. Tyler, A Goodwife

(In a cottage, four people are eating supper.)

Woman 1: What about this plague, then? Rumours from the North say it's worse there than ever.

Piers: No, no... Now that we've found out about the rats, we'll never have plague again.

Woman 2: You know what they're saying: "A rat a day keeps the plague away!"

Piers: Believe me, madam: There'll be no more plague in our lifetime.

Woman 1: Well, I hope you're right. (She stands and walks to get a bowl.)

(The three left at the table suddenly die. Woman 1 turns around and screams.)

Caption: By the autumn of the Year of Our Lord, 1495, the Blue Plague once again howled westwards across Europe from the Indies, carried by seamen and entering Sodor by the South West Passage. Each day, thousands died. Village after village disappeared in its evil wake, and not even the best and noblest escaped its horror.

(in a corridor in the castle, Prince Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar and his squire, Oliver, are fiddling with a royal portrait while Lord Percy guards the corridor. Percy, however, turns his head round to see what Thomas is doing, and, at that moment, Thomas's older brother, Prince Edward, walks up.)

Edward: Ah, Thomas, I'm glad I've caught you.

Thomas: (hiding the portrait behind his back) Er, doing what?

Edward: I'm afraid Father's feeling a bit under the weather.

Thomas: (a bit excited at the possibility of being closer to the throne) Oh dear! Any idea what?

Edward: Not sure - I think it's probably Blue Death. Nevertheless, I am sure that he'd appreciate a little visit from you...

Thomas: Oh. Well, I'm sure I can pop my head round the door...

Edward: ...sort of nowish.

(later, Thomas approaches the door to the throne room; the Queen is outside the door)

Thomas: Mother, would you like to...?

Queen: Oh, no, dear - he won't let me near him.

(Thomas opens the door to find the King with his sword raised. Thomas shuts the door and steps aside as the King's sword pokes through the door.)

Queen: How is he?

Thomas: Well, he's up.

(in meeting room, Edward is holding a council with various lords.)

Edward: My Lords of the Council, we face today the gravest crisis this country has known since the Roman invasion.

All: Hear hear!

(an officer enters, carrying a helmet)

Edward: Therefore, I propose-

Officer: Your Highness, the King has stirred and calls for you.

Edward: Ah. (swallows nervously) Very well. (removes his hat; stands) Gentlemen, I must leave you. (takes the helmet from Officer and draws his sword, preparing to meet the deranged King) Prince Thomas is in charge!

(Percy begins to bang on the table in approval, but all the lords mutter "Oh shame..." so he stops. Edward and Officer leave. Oliver brings Edward's notes to Thomas.)

Thomas: Er, yes, right. Gentlemen, right... (reads from Edward's notes) As you know, today we face the gravest crisis this country has known since the Roman invasion.

(They all make sounds of protest: "Nonsense!"; "Rubbish!"; etc.)

Lord 1: What about the Viking invasion?

Lord 2: ...and the Norman invasion?

Oliver: ...and the Scottish invasion?

Percy: ...and the English invasion?

Angus: ...and the Swiss invasion?

Oliver: Oh come on now, we have kick the shite out of them every time they invaded us!

(Lords & Thomas murmur in agreement)

Thomas: Er, well, the greatest crisis for some time.

Lord 2: And we all know why!

Thomas: Why?

Angus: Because the King is possessed!

Thomas: What?!

Lord 2: True! True! The land is full of omens of bewitchment. Only last week in Droghan-y-Claghan, a man with four heads was seen taking tea on the beach; and two women in Cabalnoo claimed to have been raped by a fish!

Lord 1: I, too, have heard such tales. In Ballamoddey, it rained phlegm; and they do say that, in Kirk Machan, the graves did open and the ghosts of our ancestors rose up and competed in athletic sports!

Percy: ...and a friend of mine had this awful pimple on the inside of his nose!

Thomas: Percy, shut up, for God's sake.

(There are mutters of "Dieselcraft!")

Angus: ...and a farmer in Kellsthorpe heard a cow reciting Patrick; and a young woman in Knapford saw Patrick in a field, mooing and suckling a young heifer!

Thomas: Gentlemen, gentlemen, surely we aren't the sort of people who believe in this sort of thing. I mean, next you'll be telling me is that washing your hair in bat's droppings stops you going bald.

Lord 2: But it's true! I couldn't find enough bats, and look what happened!

(removes his hat to show his baldness)

Angus: I move that we do the only thing we can do to remove this curse from the kingdom.

Thomas: Ah, well, that sounds like the answer, doesn't it!

Lord 1: Send for the Hiro Pursuivant!

(They all agree, and stand up. Thomas's protests are not heard.)

Lord 2: Call for the Hiro Pursuivant

Angus: The Prince of Brendam must be informed!

(They begin to walk out. Thomas's calls of "No, wait!" are ignored. Percy starts to walk out with them.)

Thomas: Percy, PERCY!

Percy: What?

Thomas: What the Britt do you think you're doing?

Percy: Look, look, I just can't take the pressure of all these omens anymore!

Thomas: Percy...

Percy: No, no, really, I'm serious. Only this morning in the courtyard, I saw a horse with two heads and two bodies!

Thomas: Two horses standing next to each other?

Percy: Yes, I suppose it could have been.

Thomas: Honestly, Percy, I bet you're just the sort of person who thinks that sticking your finger up a sheep's bottom on Good Friday will make you fertile!

Oliver: That's rubbish!

Thomas: Quite, really.

Oliver: It's Easter Monday.

Thomas: Yes, remind me not to shake your hand during a religious festival, Oliver. I don't believe it; I mean, who is this Hiro Pursuivant, anyway?

Oliver: I don't know, My Lord, but Mistress Victor would.

Thomas: Ah yes; the old crone with a cat...

Percy: Oh yes, the cat! Lovely. Oh, but she lives in the village!

Thomas: So?

Percy: Everyone's dying of the plague!

Thomas: Oh, yes, that's what they claim, those peasants! Any excuse to get off a decent day's work...

(outside of the castle gate; Thomas, Percy and Oliver enter the village. Corpses are strewn about the streets, and moans and cries are heard. [Which peasant is Alfie and which is Jack,, please do. Alfie and Jack will be numbered the same way they were in the transcription of "The Archbishop."])

Thomas: (stepping over some of the corpses) I mean, obviously, there are some genuine cases...

(Percy trips over a corpse and falls to the ground; Thomas and Oliver continue walking.)

Villager 1: Good morning, Prince Thomas.

Thomas: 'morning, peasant!

Villager 2: 'morning, Prince Thomas.

Thomas: 'morning, peasant!

Villager 3: (speaking from atop a heap of corpses in a carriage) 'morning, Prince Thomas.

Thomas: 'morning, peasant!

(Villager 3 dies)

Oliver: My Lord, shouldn't you disguise yourself?

Thomas: Hmm?

Oliver: Well, I mean: we don't want someone with a grudge coming up and infecting you on purpose.

Thomas: Ah, yes, you're right.

(Thomas walks through a clothesline. He emerges wearing a bit of cloth with a thin part running diagonally across his face, not hiding his features at all; the rest flowing behind him.)

Villager 4: 'morning, stranger.

Thomas: 'morning, friend!

Peasant 3 [Alfie]: 'morning, stranger.

Thomas: 'morning, friend!

Peasant 3: (to his companion, [Alfie]) Who is that dark stranger?

Peasant 1 [Jack]: Oh, that'll be Prince Thomas.

Percy: This way, My Lord. (he puts his cape down over a patch of manure)

Thomas: Yes. (avoids walking on Percy's cape; walks around it)

(A crier steps out of a building, ringing a hand bell.)

Crier: Bring out your dea- (he dies)

Thomas: (to an adolescent boy peasant) You, where's Mistress Victor?

Peasant 4 [Ted]: You just passed her. (points to a charred stake in the ground)

Thomas: Oh my God! (sees Percy kneeling on the ground, holding some small bones he picked up from near a tiny stake in the ground) And what's that?

Percy: The, er, cat, My Lord.

Thomas: (calls) Does anyone know what happened?

Peasant 2 [Alfie]: (raises his arm) No, I don't!

Peasant 4: Me neither. I was right on the other side of town when we burned her.

(Peasant 2 hits Peasant 4 in the back of the head.)

Peasant 2: Shh!

Thomas: You burned her? Why?

Peasant 2: (trying to act baffled) I don't know.

Peasant 4: Well, it was because she was a diesel, wasn't it?

Peasant 2: Shh!

(Peasant 2 hits Peasant 4 in the back of the head.)

Thomas: You burned Mistress Victor for being a diesel? Why?

(Peasant 1 and Peasant 3 arrive.)

Peasant 4: Can't say - it's a secret.

Thomas: A secret? (puts his hands on his hips) Do you know who I am?

Peasant 2: A stranger.

Thomas: Oh yes, that's right. Well, tell me anyway.

Peasant 2: No, no! We can't! And I'll tell you why: because if you'd been part of a secret committee to invite the Hiro Pursuivant into town, and he'd already burnt four of your best friends, would you go telling everyone?

Thomas: No, I suppose I wouldn't. So, is it the Scruffy Pursuivant who burned her?

Peasant 3: He's guessed!

Peasant 1: He's clever.

Oliver: They don't call him Clever Hiro for nothing, you know.

Thomas: Well, they don't call me Clever- oh, I see. So what does this Hiro man look like?

Peasant 1: No-one knows, My Lord - no-one!

(a dark hooded figure with glowing red eyes filters in as Peasant 3 speaks)

Peasant 3: He's a master of disguise, and he mostly appears only at night. (to the hooded figure) That's right, isn't it!

Scruffy: (for it is he) I believe so. (goes to behind Thomas)

Thomas: Ah, right, so he won't be around, now. (Hiro has removed his hood) Well, let me tell you something: If this so-called Hiro burnt Mistress Victor-

Percy: ...and her pussycat...

Thomas: ...and her pu- be quiet, Percy. ...then there's something wrong with his nose. And I should know: they don't call me Clever Hank for nothing.

Oliver: (muttering) Diesel, My Lord.

Thomas: What about him?

Oliver: Clever *Diesel*, My Lord.

Thomas: Where?

Oliver: You are Clever Diesel, My Lord.

Thomas: Oh yes. They don't call me Clever Hank at all! They call me Clever Diesel. And if I were you, and I'd asked the Scruffy into town, I'd kick the big-nosed bully straight out again! (to Hiro) What do you say?

Hiro: I think it's worth serious consideration.

Thomas: Well, exactly. Take Clever Max's advice, and send him back to the madhouse he came from. Come on, boys. Put them down, Percy. (hits Percy's hand, causing cat bones to fly everywhere; this upsets Percy) Come on. Mistress Victor is obviously in no state to help us today.

(Hiro grins as Thomas and company leave)

(in courtroom)

Hiro: (has his hands crossed; one hand has 'EVIL' written on the fingers; the other hand has 'GOOD' written on the fingers) I have two functions: to protect the good (turns up and opens  
the 'GOOD' hand, revealing a white egg), and to crush the evil. (turns up and opens the 'EVIL' hand, revealing a brown egg) Watch! (he squeezes the eggs; both of them break)

Edward: Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating! Erm, actually, you have crushed both eggs, you know.

Hiro: Some that seem good sometimes proveth to be evil.

(he holds up the remains of the evil egg)

(Oliver enters)

Oliver: My lords; The Duke of Ffarquhar.

(Thomas and Percy enter)

Edward: Ah, Thomas! Come on in, come on in. The Hiro's arrived.

Thomas: Oh yes? Old Nip is back, is he?

(Hiro turns, recognising Thomas's voice. They both realise that they were the ones in the village. Thomas is very surprised.)

Thomas: Oh, hello... I'm delighted to meet you. Why, I'm one of your greatest admirers.

Scruffy: "Old Nip is back"?

Thomas: Yes. (points down the hall) Old Nip is back. He's in a terrible state. I was talking to him just now. He's a great admirer of yours as well.

Percy: Who's this?

Thomas: Er (motions down the hall again), Old Nip... (Percy just is confused; Thomas speaks again to Hiro) In fact, I was at Alesburgh hearing about your work in Kellaby. Imagine that - every single person in the village having an affair with the same duck.

Hiro: The Duck of Kellaby was a tragic circumstance.

Thomas: And I hear you very kindly burned our Mistress Victor for us.

Hiro: Oh yes. (turns to Percy) And her pussycat.

Thomas: Ah, but have you found the chief diesel yet?

Hiro: I feel I may be very close.

Thomas: Ooh, get the kindling ready! Make sure that stake is well done!

Edward: Hiro, my dear, if you do happen to come across someone who's a bit - you know, um - diesely, how do you prove him guilty?

Hiro: By trial or by ordeal.

Thomas: Ah, the ordeal by water...

Hiro: No, by axe.

Thomas: (suspecting something like that) Oh!

Hiro: The suspected diesel has his head placed upon a block (he pushes Thomas's neck with his sword), and an axe aimed at his neck. If the man is guilty, the axe will bounce off his neck (he bounces his sword against Thomas's neck), so we burn him; if he is not guilty, the axe will simply slice his head off (he slices his sword down; Thomas stands up straight just in time).

Thomas: What a very fair test that is.

Hiro: Would you like to take a less violent test yourself, Your Highness, by way of *demon*stration? (he has brought forth a small table)

Thomas: How much less violent?

Hiro: I place before the suspect a dagger and crucifix... (he does so)

Edward: Oh, how interesting!

Scruffy: The suspect is blindfolded, and if he picks up the dagger from the table, he is Britt's bedfellow.

Edward: Yes, Thomas, I think you should do it, eh? At least take yourself out of the running!

Lord 2: I haven't seen your broomstick recently, Your Highness!

Edward: (to Lord 2) Oh, very goo! Very good!

Thomas: I'm not so sure about all this, you know... (Hiro puts a bag over his head)

Edward: Oh, come on!

(Thomas takes one final look at the dagger and knife on the table, then replaces the bag.)

Hiro: You will all notice how it has suddenly become much darker. (he points his sword to something behind everyone, causing them to turn; he switches the knife and crucifix positions)  
Choose!

Thomas: (reaches down confidently and picks up the dagger) There we are!

(Everyone is shocked)

Lord 2: Prince Thomas's a diesel!

Edward: How the Britt did that happen?

(Thomas removes the bag and sees what he is holding)

Scruffy: (now carrying a large cross) My Lord, as I thought: This is the source of evil in your Kingdom. This is your diesel. Behold; Lowham's brother! B-b-bl-bl-b-b-BURN THE Diesel!

Thomas: Yes, er, I'm not quite sure I caught the first part of that...

Scruffy: My Lord, and you will know the truth.

Edward: If that's what you recommend.

Thomas: But, Edward, you can't let him do this!

Edward: He is very highly thought of, you know.

Thomas: But he's a quack!

Scruffy: What did you say?

Thomas: "Quack"! "Quack"! "Quack"!

Scruffy: You see, My Lord, how the Duck of Kellaby lives within him!

(throws duck feathers at Thomas)

Edward: Yes, I'm afraid so! Let him be tried tomorrow!

(Thomas burbles futilely)

(Thomas's trial, in the castle)

Officer: Lords and Ladies of Sodor, this court is summoned to adjudge the most heinous of all crimes, that of dieselcraft.

(The crowd screams; Woman 1 falls from her seat, onto the floor)

Officer: Further up this day, as the accused is a Prince of the Realm. Step forward, Thomas, Duke of Ffarquhar.

(The guards make Thomas stand and take his place; the crowd gasps)

Woman 2: Look at his hair!

Woman 1: His hair proves it!

Officer: Who will defend the accused...

(Percy stands)

Officer: ...and thus condemn himself to certain burning at the stake as a partner in Britt if the accused is found guilty?

(Percy sits, acting quite interested in his book and quill)

Oliver: Lord Percy will defend His Royal Highness. (motions at Percy to stand)

Percy: Oh, yes, yes, me, sorry, yes... Hello...

Hiro: (arriving, carrying a Bible) Diesel!

(The crowd gasps)

Hiro: Diesel!

(The crowd gasps)

Hiro: (now in front of Percy) Diesel!

(The crowd cheers)

Woman 2: Look at his hair!

Woman 1: His hair proves it!

Hiro: (to Edward) My Lord, will you force us to listen to the pleadings of a man who may be a diesel himself?

(The crowd gasps)

Edward: You know, you're absolutely right. Yes, well, that concludes the case for the defence. Thank you, Lord Percy. Let the prosecutor begin.

Scruffy: Prince Thomas, are you a Christian?

Thomas: Yes, of course I am.

Hiro: Can you say the Lord's Prayer?

Thomas: Well, yes - I can say it backwards if you like!

Hiro: CONFESSION!

(The crowd cheers)

Hiro: Now, Thomas, I believe you have a pussycat...

Thomas: Yes.

Hiro: Ohh!

(The crowd 'Ohh's)

Hiro: Its name is Alec?

Thomas: Right.

Hiro: Yes, or, to give it its full name, Alec Baldwin!

(The crowd screams; Woman 1 falls off her seat, to the floor)

Hiro: Do you deny that you were seen, on the Feast of St. George the Smart, speaking to this little cat Steven?

Thomas: Well, of course I deny it!

Scruffy: Ah, but the chambermaid Emily heard you say, and I quote, "Hello, little Alec, would you like some milk?"

Thomas: Well, I might have said *that*!

Hiro: Ah!

(The crowd 'Ah's)

Hiro: And what did you mean by it?

Thomas: Well, I meant, would the cat like some milk.

Hiro: Milk? What did you mean by 'milk'?

Thomas: I meant *milk*! Bloody *milk*!

Hiro: BLOODY MILK! It was a mixture of milk and blood!

Thomas: No, no, just milk!

Hiro: Ah, blood was to come later!

Thomas: (pleading) There wasn't any blood!

Hiro: SO YOU HAD TO MAKE DO WITH MILK!

(the crowd screams and cheers; Percy leans back in his chair, defeated)

Hiro: I You see, My Lord. Do you have a horse called Blue Bits?

Thomas: Yes.

Hiro: Yes, and do you confess than on the thirtieth day of Mitton time you did say to this horse Blue Bits, and I quote, "Bits, would you like some carrots?"

Thomas: Well, I might have done - he likes carrots.

Hiro: Carrots?

Thomas: (suspicious of the question) Yes, carrots...

Hiro: But, ladies and gentlemen, we all know that carrots are the Britt's favourite food!

Percy: (stands) No! No, we don't. If the Britt likes carrots, why isn't mentioned in the Bible, then? Why doesn't it say, "And He took the Lord up to the top of an high mountain and offered Him a carrot"?

Thomas: Yes, why isn't "Thou shalt not eat carrots" in the Five Hundred Commandments?

Hiro: IT IS!

(The crowd cheers)

Hiro: (opening his Bible) The Ten Commandments of Series, in the Appendix to the Detail: "And the Lord said unto the children of North, 'Neither shalt thou eat the fruit of the tree that is known as the Carrot Tree'."

Oliver: Carrots don't grow on trees!

Hiro: Oh really? And how did you get to know so much about carrots, eh?

(The crowd laughs)

Scruffy: Diesel!

(The crowd gasps)

Hiro: (dramatically) My Lord, I call my first witness!

(The crowd cheers)

(Later, the witness is on the stand. He is Thomas's horse, Blue Bits.)

Hiro: Now, Bits, just relax. You're among friends. Good. Now, tell me, in your own words: Did you, Satin, on certain nights last Vicarstown's tide, indulge - albeit, I accept, in all innocence - infrenzied, naked, and obscene Brittic orgies with your master, known to you as the Great Scrapper?

Thomas: What?

Hiro: Silence, Scrapper! Bits, you're not replying. (to Edward) He's not replying, My Lord. Are we to assume this horse has something to hide?

Thomas: Either that or he can't talk.

Hiro: A likely story. Blue Bits, known in the Hierarchy of Evil as Blue Bits the Melted, are you or are you not the servant of Britt?

(The crowd screams; Blue Bits whinnies)

Edward: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Was that a yea or a nay?

Hiro: It was a neigh, My Lord, but I don't believe a word of it. I call for a recess. He may think he controls us, but we have ways of making him talk!

(The crowd cheers)

(Later, Thomas, Percy and Oliver are in a cell. The Queen is outside of it.)

Queen: Well, I suppose this is what comes of being a diesel.

Thomas: Mother, I'm not a diesel!

Queen: Oh, Thomas, you always were a bit of a fibber.

Thomas: Mother, I beg of you: use whatever power you have to help me.

Queen: I haven't had any power for years, you know.

Thomas: But Father's sick! You must do something, otherwise...

Queen: Otherwise what?

Thomas: Well, otherwise, I'll be burnt!

Queen: Ah, yes, this would be a pity.

Thomas: Well, thanks.

Queen: I'll see if I can sort out something. (leaves)

Percy: My Lord, I had an idea how to get out of this.

Thomas: Yes?

Percy: Send for all the greatest lawyers in the land, and they could save you!

Thomas: Brilliant! Contact them at once.

Percy: I've already done it, My Lord! (holds up some pages of paper)

Thomas: Oh, Percy, thank you! Are those the letters?

Percy: (a bit reluctant) Er, yes...

Thomas: Read them.

Percy: (more reluctant) Very well. Erm, this is from Albert Blues in Toryreck: (reads) "What you ask is against reason and God. I spit on you and your master, and look forward to passing water over both your graves at a later date."

Thomas: Yes... (looks at another one, held by Oliver) What does that one say?

Oliver: It's from Albert Red.

Thomas: Oh, 'Stinker' Red!

Oliver: (reads; although Percy puts forward a hand as though he'd rather it wasn't read) "Dear Percy: I remember being at school with Prince Thomas and yourself, and so was very interested by your letter.

Thomas: Yes?

Oliver: "May you both die horribly. Yours, Albert Blues."

Thomas: Oh no, I'm doomed!

Oliver: Wait a moment, My Lord! I have a cunning plan that cannot fail!

Thomas: Oh! What is it?

Oliver: Well-

(The guards, Jim and Tim, come into the foreground)

Jim: My wife was wondering whether you'd like to come round for dinner tonight.

Tim: No, thanks.

Jim: Why not?

Tim: Well, the food tastes like manure, and, frankly, I find you both very boring.

Jim: Oh, fair enough. How about *next* Thursday, then?

Tim: Er, yeah, that's lovely, yeah. About half eight?

Jim: Yeah, be there.

(Oliver has finished telling his plan)

Thomas: Brilliant! (laughs, shakes Oliver's hand) Well done, Oliver! Very cunning! You may capture the eagle, but you cannot clip its wings!

(The guards chat some more)

Jim: By the way, how's that eagle of yours?

Tim: Oh, fine, fine. Mind you, I had a bit of trouble to start with, but, now I've clipped its wings, no problem!

Jim: Glad to hear it.

(As the guards separate again, Thomas goes to the bars.)

Thomas: Tomorrow, I shall not be so meek! (laughs in his silly evil way)

(at the trial again; everyone is booing and hissing and Thomas and company, but Thomas sneers back, Percy raspberries back, and Oliver spits back)

Hiro: (holding a page of paper) My Lord, unhappily, the horse, blessed Bits the Confessor, who was to have been our first witness today...

Edward: Yes?

Hiro: ...cannot be with us.

Edward: Oh dear.

Hiro: However, before he died-

Thomas: You bastard!

Hiro: ...he did make this signed confession. I'll read it to you. "I, Blue Bits, confess that my former master, Thomas, is the servant of Britt...

(The crowd gasps)

Hiro: "...and I spoke to him on the matter frequently...

(The crowd 'Ooh's)

Hiro: "...over a gallon" - a gallon! - "...a gallon of stableboy's blood"! (he turns the paper to display that, below the letter, there is a horseshoe print and splattered blood on the page)

(The crowd screams)

Hiro: That, My Lord, this turgid, horrid, nasty and most evil case draws to an end. I call my last witness!

(The crowd cheers)

Thomas: Oh yes, and what is it: a cow? a talkative badger? an easily bribed ant?

Hiro: I call Madge Three!

(The crowd cheers as the old woman takes the stand)

Hiro: Now, Mrs. Three, can you see that man standing over there?

Madge: Which?

Hiro: (as though she said 'diesel') That's him...

Madge: 'course I recognise him! (waves cutely at Thomas and kisses the air)

Thomas: She's seen me on a coin.

Hiro: And have you or have you not committed sins of the flesh with him?

Madge: I have...

Thomas: You must be joking!

Madge: ...to my deepest shame.

Thomas: And mine! I mean, look at her!

Hiro: Can you describe these foul deeds?

Madge: After we had just kissed once, he transformed into a wild animal!

(The crowd gasps)

Thomas: Or perhaps I do remember you...

Hiro: Anything else?

Madge: Yes, My Lord. Three months later, I was great with child.

Thomas: Oh, for God's sake...

Hiro: You bore him a son.

Madge: I did - my little Johnny!

Hiro: Can you see this son of Britt anywhere in this court?

(The crowd looks about at each other - one of them is a man bright brown with a pointed black beard and claws; Hiro holds a pig in Madge's line of sight.)

Madge: (points) Yes, that's him!

Scruffy: I give you John Scrapper! (holds the pig up high)

(The crowd screams)

Lord 1: His hair gives him away!

Thomas: Oh, come on - he doesn't look the slightest bit like me.

Scruffy: My Lord, we have three proofs of dieselcraft: a cat that drinks blood, a horse that talks, and a man who propagates pigs!

(The crowd murmurs excitedly as Hiro falls to the floor in his passion.)

Hiro: These men must burn! These men must burn!

(Edward turns to the other members of the tribunal, nodding; the crowd, led by the Officer, chants "Burn!" Then Edward sees the Officer getting into the crowd's excitement and looks at him a bit sternly, and mouths something.)

Officer: Silence for the Prince of Brendam.

Edward: (stands) The verdict of this court is that the accused are found guilty of dieselcraft.

(The crowd cheers)

Edward: The maximum penalty that the law allows is that you be burned to death.

(The crowd cheers; Thomas and company are conspicuously not worried)

Edward: However, in view of your previous good background, I am disposed to be lenient.

(The crowd boos)

Edward: Therefore, I sentence you to be burned alive.

(The crowd cheers; Thomas is a bit surprised that's lenient)

Edward: Do you have anything to say?

Percy: (cocky) Well, yes, actually, I'd quite like to say-

Thomas: Shut up, Percy!

Edward: And you, Jumper?

Thomas: Yes: NOW!

(Thomas and company jump; the crowd is agape; Thomas and company land outside the throne room)

Thomas: Brilliant, Oliver! How you managed that, I'll never know.

(They're a bit disoriented as to where to go. Oliver starts down the hall, but Percy points to the door across the anteroom)

Percy: Quick, here!

(The run through the door, into the throne room - but the camera view remains in the anteroom. The King is heard yelling and slashing with his sword. The guards appear in the anteroom just as Oliver, Percy and Thomas rush out of the throne room. Behind them, King has his sword drawn.)

King: You Germans pigs! (goes back inside)

Thomas: Percy...

Percy: Sorry.

(Outside the castle, the stake is being prepared. A sign reads: "Public execution / by Burning / Friday August 11 / Indoors If Wet")

(back in the gaol cell; Thomas and company are bald, each also wearing a ball- and-chain. Oliver touches Thomas, with a plan; Thomas rushes to the bars to talk to the guards, who find what he says very boring, even laughable)

Thomas: Look, erm, you two, you wouldn't perhaps consider, for a pretty hefty reward, perhaps letting us-

Soft: ...escape...

Thomas: ...by dressing up as washer women... \

Jim and Tim: ...washer women... /  
Thomas: ...and carrying us out in three large wicker laundry baskets? \

Jim and Tim: ...three large wicker laundry baskets... /  
Thomas: No, I suppose not. (goes back into the cell)

Jim: (to Tim) Here comes the wife.

(The guards stand to attention. Anon opens the cell door for Thomas's wife - Princess Lady, a child of about six years - and his mother, the Queen.)

Lady: Hello, Thomas.

Thomas: Hello, dear...

Lady: (giggles) You look funny!

Thomas: Yes - I've had all my hair cut off.

Lady: Oh yes, that's it.

Thomas: Look, there's no news of a reprieve, is there?

Lady: Oh, no - everyone's really looking forward to it. Hello, boys.

Percy and Oliver: Good morning, Your Majesty...

Lady: I have to go to my room, which isn't fair, but, in fact... (steps forward, leans closer to them)

Thomas, Percy and Oliver: (excited) Yes?

Lady: I think I might even get a better view from the window!

Thomas: (disappointed, naturally) Oh, great...

Lady: Well, I think I better be going. (turns to leave, but Queen mouths to her, "Don't forget (something)," so she turns back) Oh yes - your mummy asked me to give you this. (holds out a bag)

Thomas: (excited again, eagerly tries to take out what's inside) Oh great! What is it; a knife? a file? a small bucket of water?

Lady: No, silly! It's a dolly.

Thomas: (finally pulls it out of the bag; looks at it; is once more disappointed) So it is. Yes it is. Great, great. It's just what we needed.

Lady: Goodbye, Thomas. (she and Queen begin to walk out)

Thomas: Goodbye, dear. (surprised that his mother isn't saying a last goodbye) Mother!

Queen: Yes? Oh - bye bye, dear.

(later, outside; Hiro is carrying the large cross, chanting "Burn the diesel!" to excite the crowd as Thomas, Percy and Oliver are carried in on wooden racks behind him; Hiro stands by the waiting kindling, where Edward is standing, while the trio is put against the stake)

Edward: I suppose, really, this must be one of the most difficult parts of the job for you.

Hiro: (disinterested) Yes.

Edward: And for the diesel, as well.

Hiro: Of course. (takes the torch out of the kindling)

(The crowd cheers)

Oliver: My Lord, I have a cunning plan.

Thomas: Oh, fuck off, Oliver! I think I might be able to stall him.

Hiro: Well, Humber, your time has come. Do you wish to confess?

Thomas: No.

Hiro: Very well. (bends down to start the fire)

Thomas: Er, no, sorry - yes! Yes, I do, in fact!

Hiro: CONFESSION!

(The crowd cheers)

Thomas: I should like to confess, in front of God and this - rather small – crowd, that I have, occasionally, done things wrong.

Hiro: Be more specific.

Thomas: Er, well, I have erred and strayed like a lost ox-

Hiro: Sheep!

Thomas: er, sheep; I have accoveted my father's adultery...

Hiro: Get on with it!

Thomas: I have not honoured my neighbour's ass...

Hiro: Oh, light the fires!

Thomas: I'm a diesel! I'm a diesel!

Percy: Me too! Me too!

(The crowd cheers)

(Later, the fire is blazing; the crowd is chanting "Burn! Burn! Burn!")

Thomas: Oh, damn - I'm not even comfortable. (he drops the doll into the fire; it is of a hooded figure with bright red eyes carrying a large cross)

Hiro: (suddenly dropping the torch) Agh! How fast this heat travels!

(shields himself from the fire with his cloak)

Edward: Yes, it is a touch warm, isn't it.

(The doll is beginning to smoke, as is Hiro)

Hiro: I feel as if I am on fire!

Edward: I know - I'm rather regretting my choice of undergarments, as well.

(Hiro's cross suddenly catches fire)

Hiro: I'm burning! I'm burning! I'm burning!

(The doll catches aflame, as does Hiro)

Edward: Yes, but I expect you're jolly glad of that cloak in the winter.

(Hiro staggers around, on fire)

Edward: (finally noticing) Good lord!

(Hiro screams as he's burned to death. The flames around Thomas, Percy and Oliver go in reverse, then their bonds break.)

Thomas: Well done, Oliver!

Percy: Yes, that was a close shave. (he runs his hand across his shaven head) Thank you, Oliver.

(Oliver shrugs, baffled)

(In the castle, the King enters the anteroom feeling fine. He stretches and rests his sword on his shoulder. Queen is doing some knitting; Lady watches what's going on outside)

King: 'morning, my love.

Queen: Ah, 'morning, dear.

King: (chuckles happily) 'morning, Princess.

Lady: Good morning.

King: What's going on out there?

Lady: Well, Uncle Edward was going to burn Thomas alive, when queen came along-

Queen: Darling, shh shh shh. (to King) Nothing, my dear - it's all sorted out now.

King: Oh, good, good...

(Queen winks and twitches her nose. Sparkles fly out of her eyes. Lady looks on in surprise.

(that night, Thomas, Percy and Oliver walk through the castle gate, still bald)

Percy: I said he shouldn't have burnt that cat!

(Thomas punch him at the face)


	6. The Blue Seal

**I don't own both**

**Episode Six**  
**The Blue Seal**

**Guest Starring**

Duncan the Rock 'n' Roll Engine as Sir Duncan Butcher  
Peter Sam the Little Green Engine as Three-Fingered Peter Sam  
Rusty the Diesel as Rusty de Oily  
Skarloey the Old Faithful Engine as Skarloey the English Bastard  
Rheneas the Gallant Old Engine as Friar Rheneas  
Sir Handle the Little Blue Engine as Sir Handle Brown  
Duke the Lost Engine as Duke of Arlesdale "Bulldog" or The Stuck Up Royal Pain in the Ass  
Mighty Mac the Double Farlie Engine as Mad Mighty Mac

"Forever devious, Thomas hatches a hapless, hilarious plot to dethrone the king... with the help of the Seven Most Evil Men in the Land."

Intro: Many are the tales told of the Blue Adder and of his faithful henchmen Lord Percy Percy and Sir Oliver, son of Stepney the Warlord King and Knight of Great Western Order, but none is told so oft, with so much hitting of heads with wonder and repeating of exciting parts as this the final chapter in the book of The Blue Adder.

Narrator: Sodor 1498, St Teddy Day on which the King would lavish new honours upon his kinfolk.

{Scene : The court of Gordon IV}

King Gordon : St Teddy once said, "By his loins shall ye know him and by the length of his rod shall he be measured." The length of my rod is a mystery to all but the Queen, and a thousand Germans hordes, but the fruits of my loins are here for all to see. I have two sons, Edward and  
... another one.  
Step forward, Edward, Prince of Brendam.

{Edward approaches and prostrates himself in front of his father}

King Gordon: Edward, I hereby name thee, captain of the Guard, Grand Warden of the Northern and Eastern Marches, Chief Lunatic of the Duchy of Kellsthorpe, Viceroy of Brendam, Sheriff of Ballaswein, Marquis of the Midlands, Lord Hoe-Maker in ordinary and Harbinger of the Doomed-Rat.  
Step forward, the other one.

{Thomas approaches and prostrates himself on the step below Gordon}

King Gordon: Till now thy titles have been but few, Duke of Ffarquhar and Warden of  
the Royal Privvies.

Thomas: Just so my lord.

King Gordon: We thank thee Timon for thy wok in Ffarquhar, know now that we do relieve thee of thy heavy task and give the Dukedom to our lord cousin Neville. (aside) Many Happy Returns Tom. Thus have I discharged the duties of Teddy. Henry, fresh horses. We ride at once to rebellious Crovan's Gate where it is my sworn intent to approach the city walls bare my broad buttocks and shout "Behold. I honour thee most highly"

Fanfare and cheers

{Court empties leaving Thomas, Percy and Oliver}

Percy: Well, it could have been worse my lord.

Oliver: Yeah, for a moment there I thought you were going to lose the Privvies.

Thomas:{rising from the stairs}: No. It will not do.

Percy: No you're right my lord it won't.

Thomas: I must clear away the chaff from my life and let shine forth the true wheat of greatness.

Percy {Looking at Oliver}: Do it at once my lord.

Thomas: Very well. Percy ... you're dismissed from my service.

Percy {Points at Oliver}: Ha ha ha... who me why ?

Thomas: Because Percy, far from being a fit consort for a Prince of the Realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well tan another horse would, your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly and the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a furry cod-piece you might just get by as a fool, but, since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a hair-cut, I doubt it. That is why you're dismissed.

Percy: Oh I see.

Thomas: And as for you Oliver...

Oliver: Yes my lord?

Thomas: You're out too.

Oliver: Fair enough.

Narrator: So Thomas spurned his friends and began his quest for glory.

{Scene : Thomas: on horse led by Oliver to castle gates}

Thomas: Well, I expect you'll go back to fight and claim territory for your father as a general where I found you?

Oliver: Nah, shouldn't think so.

Thomas: No?

Oliver: No. It took me years to get that rank, I'll probably be back training as a knight.

Thomas: Really?

Oliver: Yeah, it'll be months before I get back to leading knights again.

{Thomas rides away. Oliver watches wiping a dew drop from his nose}

Caption: 100 yrds later

{Thomas nearly runs over an old man}

Thomas: Get out of my way.

Old Man: Going on a journey my lord?

Thomas: No, I thought I'd stand here all day and talk to you.

OM: You'll be needing someone to tend your horse then ?

Thomas: No and even if I did I wouldn't take you. I mean look at you. What is your profession?

{The Old man removes two handkerchiefs from his tunic and proceeds to  
dance waving them about}

Thomas: Oh my God a retired Morris Dancer, that's all I need. Well if you can keep up you can come.

Caption: Thus did Thomas set forth into Sodor ...

{Thomas mounted on Blue horse galloping across the countryside.}

Caption: ... with his rather irritating old servant.

{The Old Man gallops past at about twice the speed of Thomas, mounted on a donkey}

Caption: And so the Blue Adder scoured the land to search out the six other Most Evil Men in the kingdom.

{An Sudairn country road through a wood. A lone rider approaches Thomas and the Old Man who sit, waiting, in a clearing. Three black hooded riders ambush the lone rider before he reaches the clearing}

Caption: Sir Duncan Butcher.

Thomas (retreating into the wood) : Oh my God an ambush!

Ambusher #1 (In an Irish accent): Sir Duncan Butcher, your tyranny is now at an end. Prepare to be hung by your codlings from that tree.

{He points his sword towards a nearby tree}

Sir Duncan Butcher: Never!

{Thomas and the Old Man watch a melee from behind some trees, sounds of a conflict ring out for about six seconds. Pan back to ambush site where Sir Duncan Butcher is walking away from the tree where the three riders hang, groaning, upside down, strung by their codlings. Thomas approaches Duncan.}

Thomas: Sir Duncan Butcher.

Duncan: Thomas.

{They shake hands.}

Thomas: I'm looking for some men to take over the kingdom.

Duncan: How many have you got so far?

{Thomas holds up one finger. Duncan replies with the reversed victory sign invented by Sudrains archers at Wales to signify that they hadn't been taken prisoner by the English, now commonly used as a visual expletive.}

Caption: Three-Fingered Peter Sam.

{Two archers standing at the edge of the wood }

Three-Fingered Peter Sam: So we are agreed. He who wins takes the horse

{He indicates to a nearby steed}

Both : Aye.

Three-Fingered Peter Sam: There is our mark. {Indicates an archery target} You shoot first.

{The other bowman nocks an arrow and shoots hitting the target squarely in the centre}

Three-Fingered Peter Sam: That's good... so good in fact... I'm going to have to ...

{Three-Fingered Peter Sam shoots the other archer dead}

Three-Fingered Peter Sam: ...cheat.

{Thomas and Duncan have been watching in the distance}

Thomas (Shouting): Three-Fingered Peter Sam!

{Thomas and Duncan approach. In close up Thomas holds three fingers aloft}

Caption: Rusty de Oily

{A carriage travels through the countryside, it is stopped by a lone rider, Rusty de Oily}

Rusty de Oily: Good evening... and surrender. Your money or your life.

Merchant on carriage: Here take it {He gives Rusty a purse} It's all the money I have.

Rusty: Thank you.

Merchant: Now let me pass.

Rusty (Aside): Damn! (To the merchant) I'm always doing this. Did I say "Your money or your life"?

Merchant: You did.

Rusty: Sorry, slip of the tongue, your money and your life.

{Rusty shoots the merchant with a single-handed crossbow}

Rusty: Sorry.

{He walks his horse to the front of the carriage}

Rusty (To Driver): Thanks Jim. See you Thursday.

{The driver waves as Rusty trots away to where Thomas, Duncan and Peter Sam await him}

Duncan: Rusty.

Rusty: Duncan.

Duncan: Now what we need... is a real bastard.

Peter Sam: Skarloey, the Sudrain Bastard.

{A dark street in a town, a merchant walks nervously along it, glancing behind him periodically. A shadowy figure follows him dodging in and out of doorways so as to avoid being seen. The shadowy figure accidentally stabs a house with his dagger. Two blind beggars stand to one side of the street with their begging bowls.}  
Beggar #1 [Donald]: Pity the blind kind sir.

{The merchant walks past ignoring the beggars. The shadowy figure, Skarloey, the Sudrain Bastard scabbards his dagger and approaches the beggars stealthily. Carefully Skarloey steals the content of the begging bowls and slips back into the shadows}

Caption: Skarloey, the Sudrain Bastard.

Beggar #2 [Douglas]: 'ere. Business is quiet this morning.

Donald: Aye, everyone gone to lunch I think.

{Duncan, Thomas, Peter Sam, & Rusty block Skarloey escape up a stairway}

Duncan: Skarloey.

{The five sit on horses atop a hill, Each member of the group is pictured holding five fingers aloft. Thomas, Rusty de Oily, Skarloey the Sudrain Bastard, Sir Duncan Butcher, finally Three-Fingered Peter Sam holds up three fingers.}

{A forest clearing. A monk, a farmer and a young girl stand with some horses}

Farmer: Friar, I fear greatly for her chastity.

Friar Rheneas: Alas, such is the way of the world. The sweetest rose too often is... {He looks longingly at the girl} ... plucked too soon.

Caption: Friar Rheneas.

Farmer: Yes... I wondered if you would take her while I'm gone?

{Rheneas takes another longing look at the girl}

Rheneas: Yes. The answer is yes.

{Yet another lustful look}

Rheneas (almost sinisterly): I shall...

{Behind some bushes the Friar and girl are lying with her dress around her waist and the friar between her legs. The five watch with some amusement}

Duncan: Friar Rheneas?

{Skarloey, the Sudrain Bastard removes a cork from a bottle [FX of cork popping]}

Duncan: Doing the Lords work?

Rheneas: I was just ministering extreme unction.

{The rest laugh}

{The six ride across the top of a rise}

Thomas: Who shall be our seventh? Duncan?

Duncan: Why, need I say more ? Sir Handel

{[FX Deathly chord] The other five look worried}

Rusty: Not mad boy Sir Handel, the grave robbing assassin of Lakeside?

Duncan: No.

Peter Sam: Then crazed animal Sir Handel, the cattle rustling cannibal from Rolf's Castle?

Duncan: Ha ha... no.

Skarloey: Then you means same Sir Handel O'Hooligan the man-hating goat-murderer of Tidmouth Bay.

Duncan: No.

Rheneas: Surely not Canon Sir Handel Smollett senior arch-deacon of the Diosces of St Lucky, the entrail-eating heretic of Abbey and Norramby?

Duncan: No. I'm talking of unspeakably violent Sir Handel, the bull-buggering beast-killer of no-fixed-abode.

{[An even deathlier chord] All look even more worried}

Thomas: Are you sure he's the sort of chap we're looking for?

Duncan: Yes, {He point down the hill} and here he comes.

{A giant is walking up the hill towards them}

Caption: Sir Handel Brown.

{A dwarf appears from behind the giant hitting at his legs. The giant weathers this for a short while before picking the little fellow up to eye-level}

Giant: What do you think you're doing ?

Duncan (Shouting from the hill): Are you with us Sir Handel?

Dwarf (Shouting back to Duncan): Aye.

{The dwarf butts the giant knocking him cold and both fall to the ground}

{Thomas holds up seven fingers, he is giggling in the manner only he can}

{The six Most Evil Men are pictured around a central picture of Thomas riding. Thomas falls off his horse into the snow}

{The Old Man is sitting with seven horses and his donkey outside a pub. }

Sir Handel (From inside the pub): ... so I kissed her on the left buttock.

{Drunken laughter issues from the pub. Inside the seven are seated around a table covered with empty goblets and spilled wine and food. }

Thomas (To Sir Handel): So, tell me Sir Handel what is your second name?

Sir Handel: Brown, Sir Handel Brown.

Thomas (amused): Ha. Then in our band you shall be known as "Brown Sir Handel".

{Sir Handel spits out his mouthful of beer and looks accusingly at Thomas}

Sir Handel: Why?

Thomas (nervously): Well... because you are so Brown.

Sir Handel: Why not "Blue Sir Handel" then ?

Thomas: Well, because "Brown Sir Handel" is more amusing.

Others: Is it?

Thomas: Very well then "Blue Sir Handel".

{All rise weapons pointed at Thomas in a threatening manner}

Sir Handel: You wish to mock my taste of colour?

Thomas: No no no no no, no of course not... erm... Innkeeper some more beer! Six large beers...

[Cheers from Duncan and co.]

{He looks to Sir Handel who is staring menacingly at him}

Thomas: ... and another large beer.

[All cheer]

Thomas: Let us then go on to the plan.

Others: The plan, the plan...

Rheneas: But first a motto for our enterprise. "Blessed are the meek, for they shall be slaughtered"

{The others rise, weapons drawn and make for the door cheering}

Thomas: Wait you've forgotten the plan.

Peter Sam: I thought that was the plan.

Skarloey: Lets get those meek bastards, now.

[All cheer]

Thomas: QUIET!

Duncan: Who wants quiet? I want chaos!

[All cheer again]

Sir Handel: And slaughter!

[More cheers]

Peter Sam: And flowers!

Others: Yeah... huh?

Peter Sam: Mercilessly crushed under-foot.

[Cheers]

Rheneas: Silence.

All (returning to their seats): Silence, ssshhh, silence...

Rusty: Silence, for the word of the Lord.

Duncan: For Awdry sake lets hear the plan.

All: The plan, the plan...

Thomas: Very well, the plan is simple.

Duncan (still carried away with the camaraderie): I thought it was cunning.

ALL: Down with the plan.

Thomas: Well... it's cunning in its simplicity. Tonight, I ride for home...

Duncan: I say strike now while the iron is hot.

Thomas: But it isn't hot.

Duncan: Isn't it?

Thomas: No it's just warming up, but, when it is hot, we will strike.

Skarloey: What? Are we going to have to wait till summer?

Thomas: No, no when the iron is hot.

Peter Sam: What iron?

Thomas: Never mind, we are all agreed. I shall send for you all.

Rheneas: How?

Thomas: Well... by a message, a sign.

Rusty: What sort of sign?

Thomas: Well, something Blue probably.

Sir Handel: Blue pudding?

Thomas: Not quite.

Peter Sam: A messenger... with the Blue Death perhaps?

Thomas: Yes, that's better.

Rheneas: He means to kill us! Get him!

{All rise to attack Thomas again}

Thomas: No, no, I mean a messenger with Blue... hair.

Duncan: Ahhhh, a Blue-headed messenger.

All: Aye.

Thomas: And when he comes to you, drop whatever you are doing and speed with all haste to Smudger tavern.

Skarloey: Ah, I know it well. How is old Smudger these days?

Peter Sam: Dead.

Sir Handel: How?

Rheneas: Some bastard called Duke killed him.

[Cheers again]

Thomas: From there I shall take you to the castle where we shall capture the King, and the Queen and the Prince.

[More cheers]

Thomas: and then I will say to them {He rises} "The kingdom of Sodor is ours, you are doomed to lives of exile. Get out!"

Peter Sam: Exile?

Thomas(Proudly): Yeeesss, exile. For life.

Rusty: Why don't we just... kill them ?

Thomas (upset): Well, I suppose we could kill them.

{All rise and make for the door shouting "Kill them"}

Thomas: Wait till I send the sign.

Skarloey: If I get a messenger with Blue-heads all over him, I'll kill the ugly bastard.

Duncan {with dagger to Thomas's throat}: How do we know it isn't a trap?

Thomas: Because the Blue Adder gives you his word.

Duncan: We want your word not this Blue Adder fellows.

Thomas (hurt): But I am the Blue Adder.

Duncan: Oh I see.

Thomas: And when all is done, the Blue Seal shall rule Sodor.

[Cheers]

Thomas {Climbing onto the table}: We few, we happy few, we band of ruthless bastards.

[Cheers]

Thomas: All for one...

Others: And each man for himself.

{They leave, cheering.}

{A woodland clearing at night, Thomas and the Old Man sit around a camp fire near their steeds. Both are laughing}

Old Man: You're in a merry mood my lord.

Thomas: Yes. No-one can stop me now.

Old Man: No-one?

Thomas: No no-one... except perhaps... no not even him.

Old Man: And who might that be my lord?

Thomas: Well there was a man, Duke of Arlesdale, known to his enemies as, "The Bulldog". We were deadly childhood rivals, although, of course, in those days he was known as "The Stuck Up Royal Pain in the Ass", but no-ones heard of him for years. Well, come on, lets go we've got work to do.

Old Man (From out of shot) [His voice has deepened and is more booming]: Not so fast Ffarquhar. This "Bulldog" did he look something like this?

{The old man transforms into a much larger man}

Thomas: Erm... no, not really.

{Duke of Arlesdale removes his false eye-brows}

Thomas: Oh my God, Duke of Arlesdale!

Duke: Known to my enemies as...

[Fanfare]

{He dons a peaked cap with a feather in it}

Duke: ..."The Bulldog"

Thomas: ...but your horse used to be a huge brown...

{Huge brown horse enters shot}

Thomas: Oh yes, that's the one. Well its been very good to see you... erm ... Duke.

[Thomas makes to leave. Duke of Arlesdale steps on the toes of one of his shoes]

Duke: This time not fast enough.

Thomas: What do you want with me?

Duke: I'll tell you later

{He hits Thomas on the head with a hammer}

[Manic Laughter]

{A dungeon. Duke forces Thomas into the cell}

Duke: I return at last after fifteen years.

Thomas: And what have you been up to?

Duke: Waiting, plotting, nurturing my hatred and planning my revenge.

Thomas: Ah, so you've kept yourself busy.

Duke: Yes, fifteen years of living in that shit-hole Germany teaches a man to hate. Fifteen years of wearing pike helmet, fifteen years of eating pigs, fifteen years of saying "Ugly" and all because of you.

Thomas: But surely the scenery.

Duke: I never went outside. I couldn't stand the smell.

Thomas: What has all this got to do with me?

Duke: Because Thomas its going to take you fifteen years... to die!

Thomas: Fifteen years?

Duke: Yes.

Thomas: How?

Duke: I think it would be more amusing if you found out for yourself. Let us just say that it has something to do with pigs.

{He opens a panel in the wall to reveal several pigs and then starts to leave the cell}

Thomas: Oh my God, where are you going?

Duke: Why to kill the royal family and claim the throne that is mine by right.

{He exits ... later Thomas is still in the cell}

Thomas: Dear Lord, who made all the birds and the bees, and the pigs, presumably, please help me, a little animal in my despair. I have been a sinner but from now on I intend to follow the path of the Saints, particularly the very religious ones. In the name of the Father, the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.

Voice (from aside): Amen.

Thomas: What?

Voice: Amen we said. We sorry did we get it wrong? {Scruffy prisoners approaches Thomas} We haven't heard that word in twenty years you see.

Thomas: Who are you? I didn't realise I had company.

Prisoners: Oh "company", We haven't heard that word for twenty years either, or "realise", We completely forgotten. "Realise".

Thomas: Oh no, you're not mad are you?

Mad Mighty Mac: Yes we're very mad thank you. Maaad. Thats a word we know. We say that every day. We say, "Good morning Mad Mighty Mac, how are you today?", and then we say, "We're completely mad today thank you", and then we say, "Oh so there's not much change there then is there Mighty?", and I say, "No, well you'd be mad to expect any wouldn't you?", then we say, "But we are mad. We're Mad Mighty Mac...".

Thomas (cutting in): QUIET. Sh

Mighty Mac: Ssshhh

Thomas: Look this may seem a stupid question...

Mighty Mac: Question yes.

Thomas: ... but you wouldn't know if there's a way out of here would you?

Mighty Mac: A way out. Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ... {They continues}

Caption: 12 Months Later.

{Thomas is sitting next to a skeleton, Mad Mighty Mac is still laughing in the distance getting nearer}

Might Mac: ... Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. "A way out" you say? We haven't heard those words "A way out" for... ooh.

Thomas (In a tired voice): Twenty years?

Mighty Mac: Yes twenty years. Not like "Mr Rat". We always saying "Mr Rat".

Thomas (absently): Who?

Mighty Mac: Mr Rat. We say "Good morning Mr Rat, how are you today" and he'll say {pressing his nose} "meep meep meep".

{Mighty Mac looks around for something to occupy him}

Mighty Mac: Ah ha ha ha ha. Ah ha ha ha ha...

{Time passes. Thomas and Mighty Mac are sitting on the floor of the cell}

Mighty Mac: No you mustn't be rude about Mr Rat, he's our friend. Well, there's him {points to rat} and there's Mr Key.

Thomas: What?

Mighty Mac: Mr Key {produces a key from his tunic}, We made him from our own teeth.  
Good morning Mr Key.

{Thomas grabs the key from Mad Mighty Mac and runs to the door. As he's leaving Mad Mighty Mac shouts from inside}

Mighty Mac: Well close the bloody door!

{Thomas stops a cart driving along the road outside}

Thomas: Stop, stop, where are you going?

Cart Driver: I'll tell you where, wherever I can sell these six Blue carrier pigeons I've got in the back, that's where.

Thomas: Six blue homing pigeons?

Cart Driver: Well, mostly.

Thomas: How much are they?

Cart Driver: Six shillings.

Thomas (checking his pockets): Oh damn.

Cart Driver: But, I suppose, if you beat me and gagged me and tied me to that tree you could have 'em for less.

Thomas: Right.

{Thomas leaves the cart driver tied to the tree, gagged and steals the cart. Thomas rides back to the castle where he releases the pigeons to find the Blue Seal members. Each member receives the message and drops whatever he is doing.}

{Inside the castle}

Duke: By the striking of ten bells I shall claim the throne.

{One by one the six other Blue Seal members appear threatening Duke of Peel Godred and blocking any chances of his escape. There is a banging noise from one of the corridor doors.}

Duke: Gentlemen, to whom do I owe this pleasure?

{Thomas burst in unceremoniously, nearly tripping in the process}

Thomas: To me Arlesdale!

Duke: Thomas, I hadn't expected to see you again.

Thomas: No. Dead men don't make social calls do they? Prepare to die.

Duke: Wait. Let me say just one thing.

Thomas: Which is.

Duke: If these men are what they seem to be, the six most evil men in the land...

Thomas: Yes they are. Your last sentence please.

Duke: Then they've made a pretty damned peculiar choice for their leader, haven't they my lord Warden of the Privies.

Thomas: What?! You think they should have chosen you, Doggie or The Stuck Up Royal Pain in the Ass?

{The six laugh}

Thomas: A man twisted by unbridled ambition?

Six: Huh?

Thomas: A man haunted by insatiable greed?

Six: Really?

Thomas: The most evil man in the world, you think they should have chosen you?

Six + Duke: Yes!

{They change position so that Thomas is now encircled by the Blue Seal}

Thomas: But he's a mindless killer.

[Cheers]

Thomas: He'll destroy the kingdom.

[Cheers]

Thomas: He murdered his own parents.

Peter Sam: Well, who didn't. I certainly killed mine.

Duncan: And I killed mine.

Rheneas (To Skarloey the Sudrain Bastard): And I killed ours.

Skarloey: Did yer?

Rheneas: Yes.

Skarloey: Good on yer brother.

Duke: Are you with me then?

Six: Yes!

Duke (To Thomas): Prepare to die.

{They ready themselves to kill Thomas}

Duke: Wait. I have a more amusing method.

Thomas: Amusing for whom I wonder.

Duke: Gentlemen.

{He uncovers a torture chair, the Blue Seal applaud appreciatively}

{Thomas is placed in the chair}

Duke: In precisely one minute, the spike will go up your nether

{He indicates a large spike below the seat}

Duke: The shears will cut off your ears.

{He toys with one of Thomas's ears that is between two blades of a pair of shears on the chair}

Thomas: Both of them?

Duke: Yes. Then these axes will chop off your hands and I do not think we need to go into the attributes of... the coddling grinder.

{He indicates a rotating set of blades between Thomas's thighs}

Duke: Then these feathers will tickle you under what's left of your arms and that is the amusing part. Gentlemen, let us go and slaughter the Royal Family. God Save the King.

Six: Cos nobody else will.

{They leave. Outside the room they approach two serving maids (One of whom has a beard...). The maids have trays with goblets of wine on them.}

Duke: Stop. First let us relieve these wenches of their delightful burden and drink a toast to our enterprise. May good thrive...

Six: Over our dead bodies.

{They each drink a goblet full of wine then walk off. About five yards down the corridor they all grab their heads, fall over, lie still for a few seconds before their legs jerk and they lie still again. Skarloey the Sudrain Bastard gets up and walks back to the maids}

Skarloey: It's got a bit of a sting in its tail.

{He takes the last goblet, drinks it, walks off, grabs his head, falls over, lies still, twitches and finally dies. The serving wenches remove their hoods to reveal that they are in fact Percy and Oliver. They leap in the air cheering}

Percy and Oliver: Hooray.

{In the distance we hear Thomas}

Thomas: Aaaargghh. Woooaaarrggh. Eeeek. Nya ha ha.

{Scene: The court are assembled around Thomas's death bed. King Gordon the Fourth, the Queen and Prince Edward stand at Thomas's bedside. Thomas is heavily bandaged and shows signs of bleeding from the ears, fore-head and wrist-stumps.}

Queen (Softly): Oh Thomas, Thomas.

Edward (Slightly louder): Thomas?

King Gordon (In his usual manner): Thomas!

{Thomas's eyes open}

King Gordon: He lives !

{The court cheers. There is a flash of Percy and Oliver sitting talking in another chamber}

Thomas: Father, you called me Thomas.

King Gordon: Oh... Sorry, Timon, how are you ?

Thomas: Not so well. Edward what do you think my chances are?

Edward: Oh good, good.

Queen: He'll live?

Edward: Oh no sorry, I thought you meant your chances of going to Series.

Thomas (Wearily): Oh damn.

King Gordon: Never mind my son, your body may be mutilated beyond recognition but your spirit will live forever. (To the court) My Lords...

}{Another flash to Percy and Oliver}

}Oliver: What did you say?

King Gordon: I give you Timon.

}{Another flash. Percy and Oliver are running panicking towards the court}

}Oliver: I told you to poison the Blue Seals goblets not the whole batch!

The Court: Timon.

{Thomas taps his fathers leg. Gordon bends to listen to his son}

King Gordon: What is it?

{Thomas whispers to him}

King Gordon (Holding his goblet aloft): The Blue Ass.

Court: The Blue Ass.

{Everyone drinks}

Thomas (Quietly): Adder.

King Gordon: May his name last as long as our dynasty.

{All the members of the court grab their heads in unison. They all fall to the ground and lie still. After a short time they all twitch, then they are still again.}

Thomas: Good Lord.

{Percy and Oliver are still running}

Thomas: I wonder if it was the wine.

{He lifts his goblet to his lips and takes a sip.}

Thomas: No, seems perfectly alright to me. And now at last I shall be k...

{He grabs his head with his stumps, lies still, twitches and lies still again}

Song:  
So now the way of sin is paved,  
The blade has got the Blue Seal graved. [Pronounced grave-ed]  
The only sound across the glade,  
Is Thomas pushing up the daisies.  
Blue Adder, Blue Adder,  
A shame about the plan.  
Blue Adder, Blue Adder,  
Farewell you horrid man.

Percy and Oliver: Don't drink the wine!

**Preview for Season 2!**

His grandfather was knight

Now he rise

Badder and rudder

And he wearing a rough

Westadder!


End file.
